


Little Things

by underthewillows



Series: River and Indigo [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Child Loss, Grief, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-06-22 07:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 52,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19662292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underthewillows/pseuds/underthewillows
Summary: Sherlock and John are loving fathers to their daughters, River Grace and Indigo Rose, and for the past 6 years they have had the best adventure of their lives. Laughter, love, and happiness surround their little family until one day when everything they have built comes crashing down. Johnlock/parentlock





	1. Just a Sprain

We knew she was too good for this world.

It was a cool September day when we noticed our youngest limping after we picked her up from school.

"Indie, what happened to your leg?" I asked.

"Oh, I fell in gym class Papa, the nurse put ice on it and gave me icky medicine! It feels better than it did, the nurse said it was probably just a sprain," she replied.

"Well you just rest now, I'll get you your coloring books and some apple juice and we'll have a nice evening on the couch," I said as I leaned down and rubbed my nose on hers. I wrapped her in my arms and she giggled, the beautiful sound echoing around the room, the walls singing with her laughter. Sherlock burst through the door and opened his arms for Indie. I set her down and she limped over to him, Sherlock's brow furrowed and he said,

"John, what happened to her leg?"

"Don't worry, our girl just had an accident in gym and sprained her ankle, she'll be in tip top shape in no time," I said and Indie interjected, "I'll be fine, Daddy, it feels much better!"

Sherlock smiled and picked her up, but his face darkened as she snuggled with him. His eyes became stormy and his smile quickly turned to a deep frown, his brown still furrowed with worry. Something wasn't right.

Indie popped her head off his shoulder and immediately his face brightened, putting on a smile that was meant only for her.

"Well let's get you back on that couch and a pillow under that ankle!" he said. He practically floated to the couch, flying Indie like an airplane, before gently placing her on the cushions, popping my Union Jack pillow under her right ankle and draping a blue knit blanket over her in one fluid motion. Only Sherlock could make placing a child on a couch look like a scene from a world-class ballet. Once she was settled in with her coloring book, he crossed to the kitchen and I followed.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered.

"What was what, John?"

"You looked like Indie was about to die when you noticed her limping!"

Sherlock only focused more intently on making the cup of tea in front of him.

I walked behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle and whispered into his back, "Bloody hell Sherlock, don't worry so much, she's an active little girl, she's going to sprain an ankle now and then."

During the next few days, Sherlock became more quiet, more withdrawn, clinging to Indie more. Even River, our firecracker, settled down and preferred tea parties or playing baby dolls with Indie than dissecting worms with her Daddy or running around the park with me. I knew both of them had figured out something I could not yet see and I had never been more frightened in my life. I had only approached the subject once since I noticed Sherlock acting strangely and that was met with a glare and deafening silence.

But Indie's leg seemed to get better, Sherlock and River seemed to return to normal, and the whole thing was nearly forgotten. I chalked to whole thing up to a sprained ankle, an overprotective father, and our daughter simply copying her father's behavior.

* * *

I ripped October 7th from my calendar that Molly had gotten for me last Christmas, looking at the little pug puppy sitting in a pumpkin and the accompanying quote for today;

"Enjoy the little things in life, for someday you will look back and realize they were the big things."

Suddenly I felt a chill and shuddered, something felt wrong, I hadn't felt this much dread since right before, well, Sherlock's fall. I glanced at the quote again and shook off the feeling, silly getting so upset over a quote from a calendar. Sitting at my desk at the clinic, I straightened the picture of my little family and smiled. I remember that day like it was yesterday…

We had decided to get our new family portraits done this year around the twins' 6th birthday on May 28th. Sherlock and I had gotten the girls ready the morning of the pictures and I had to convince him to put the girls in the outfits that Mrs. Hudson and I had picked out.

"John, we should capture who they really are, not the perfect, polished version. I am not going to make my girls do what my parents did to me," he huffed and threw himself on the couch.

"My God Sherlock, we're putting them into fancy dresses and bows in their hair for a few pictures, not forcing them into boarding school or having them be raised by a nanny," I sat next to him and ran my fingers through his curls, "we have lots of candid photos of River and Indie, they'll know and whoever looks at those pictures will know who they were at 5 years old. Their spirits and personalities won't get lost because of a few fancy pictures. Besides, Indie loves dressing up nice anyway, she'll have a field day with these."

"I suppose a few nice pictures wouldn't hurt, but they don't want to do this, I won't make them!" He replied.

After sulking for a few moments and with a few tender kisses, we both got up got up and went to the girls' bedroom to get them ready.

* * *

I brushed my thumb over the picture, Sherlock held River in his left arm and I held Indie in my right. Both girls were wearing baby blue frock dresses with bows in their ringlet hair to match. Three little faux buttons were in a column at the top of the dress and white embroidered flowers danced down the front of the dress. White tights and black Mary Janes completed the outfits. They had one arm around each other and the other around Sherlock or I. Their cheeks were pressed together and they had both been caught mid-laugh, their eyes shining brightly with mirth and their smiling mouths wide. Sherlock and I were kissing their cheeks with smiles on our faces. The girls were the center of our world, radiating laughter and light, and no other picture ever captured this as greatly as this one did.

If I had known then what I knew now, I would've hugged my girls a little bit tighter and held them just a little bit longer. I would've asked the photographer to just take a few more photographs and to leave us all of the ones she took, even the ones that didn't turn out as well. If only I had known that in less than a year, memories and pictures were all we had left of her.

If only I had known.


	2. Falling Apart

"Mr. Peterson, you have tested positive for the flu, and you're past the window for any medication to shorten the illness. Please take time off from work, rest, drink plenty of fluids, and wash your hands to try and prevent the spread of the illness." I said as I opened the door for my 10th flu patient of the day.

"I better not get this too," I muttered to myself as I washed my hands, "or worse, give it to Sherlock and the girls."

My shift at the clinic ended and I began my walk down the street to Huddington Elementary School to pick up River and Indie, it was their last day before autumn break and they both were terribly excited to have the next few days off. I smiled to myself as I thought of their itinerary for the upcoming break.

* * *

Last night, I had walked into a scene of organized chaos after fetching ingredients for a lovely roast. Indie was standing on the couch with a green bowl on her head and holding out what looked like a paper towel tube in her hand. Her turquoise short sleeved sweater dress hung to just above her knees and her black leggings bunched at her ankles meeting the edges of her yellow socks. Sunshine socks she called them. Meanwhile River was sprawled out on the floor in Sherlock's coat, with her eyes shut and tongue dramatically lolling out of her mouth, her limp hand with another paper towel tube in it. Sherlock sat in his chair reading the newspaper, the corners of his mouth tipped up in his sly smile.

"Papa! You're home!" Indie shouted.

At the mention of me, River jumped up and ran to me, Sherlock's coat dragging behind her. She smashed into my legs and nearly bowled me over. I crouched down to her level and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Hello my darling! What have we got here?" I said and tweaked her nose.

"Well Papa, since Indie loves the Moon and space so much, I decided we need to go there, and Indie is practicing becoming Princess of the Moon."

In the meantime, Indie had come running over to join us and said, "River said we had to fight the moon people, but I'm sure they're nice and I don't want to hurt them, I just want to be Princess."

"I'm sure they'll love to have you as their Princess, my love, what will you do on the Moon, River?"

"I'm going to be Indie's Prime Minister, that way I can fight for her." River said.

"We're going to build a rocket ship during break, Papa, and River will be the pilot and I'll be the navigator since I love the stars so much!" Indie said, bouncing up and down all the while.

"Well we'll have to see what Daddy thinks about this plan, don't we?"

"Daddy approves," Sherlock said setting down his paper on the coffee table, "just be home by dinnertime, darlings."

"Princess Indie wants mac and cheese for dinner tomorrow!" she said, sticking her "sword" up in the air.

"Yeah!" River chimed in while hugging me closer to her.

Unbeknownst to me, Sherlock had captured this moment on his phone.

He would show it to me after dinner, after the girls were read to and tucked in, after we had gotten into bed.

It was quite a funny picture, Indie stood triumphant with the green bowl slightly lopsided on her head, holding out that damn paper towel tube, and the silliest grin on her face. I was crouching slightly behind her, eyes crinkled and a smile on my face, laughing at my Moon Princess. River leaned against me, with her arms around my neck and drowning in Sherlock's coat, blue eyes sparkling and looking at her sister, her mouth opened in a shout of laughter.

"You know we have to take them to the Moon now don't you, John?" Sherlock said as we laid in bed.

"We can't actually take them to the Moon, Sherlock." I replied.

He turned and rummaged in his nightstand drawer and had four tickets in his hand. "We're going to the observatory on Saturday night, John, that way our Princess and Prime Minister can really see their new kingdom."

"How did you manage to get those? Those tickets have been sold out for weeks, some meteor shower is happening this weekend."

"Mycroft pulled some strings, he can't deny our precious girls a thing."

I grinned and said, "I love you Sherlock, and your love for our daughters makes me love you times infinity."

"Well, it is quite impossible to multiply anything by infinity as…"

"Shut up, Sherlock."

He smirked and rolled over, "Goodnight, John."

I fell asleep, thinking of the latest adventure our girls had thought up and fell asleep with that picture on my mind, we would have to get that one framed.

* * *

I walked through the gate of the school and was met by the girls' teacher, Mrs. Keaton.

"Oh Dr. Watson! River and Indigo are inside, Indigo seems to be feeling a bit under the weather, the flu has been going around as I'm sure you know! Poor thing started shivering like a leaf right before the final bell rang."

I sighed, the girls had gotten their flu shot a few days ago, not soon enough I suppose.

"Thank you Mrs. Keaton, I'll call my brother-in-law for a car to take us all home. She can't walk home while she's ill."

"Of course, sir, come get your girls," she said.

I quickly dialed Mycroft and told him of our predicament. He promised the car would be there in 5 minutes. I hung up and followed Mrs. Keaton to the nurse's office.

Indie laid on the examining table with her eyes half shut, her body scrunched up in the fetal position. River held her hand and I noticed she had taken her navy cardigan off and had draped it over her sister.

"Indie's sick, Papa." she said, looking like a miniature Sherlock with her brow scrunched in worry.

"I know darling, probably just the flu, nothing to worry about," I softly said to her.

I walked over to the table and placed my lips on my daughter's forehead, wisps of blonde hair stuck to the sweat shining across her forehead. Indie whimpered and inched herself closer to me. "My God, she's absolutely burning up, Mrs. Keaton, what's her temperature?"

"It was 37.7 ºC last I checked."

"Give me the thermometer, please, she feels much warmer than that."

She handed me the thermometer and I stuck the probe under Indie's tongue.

"There's a good girl, just keep it under your tongue sweetheart, just a couple more seconds, there you go."

40ºC

Dear God…

I had just taken the thermometer out of her mouth and had turned to give it back to Mrs. Keaton when I heard banging and a scream from behind me.

River was standing next to her sister, screaming bloody murder, blonde curls and limbs thrashing violently on the table. I pushed River toward Mrs. Keaton, "Take her to the car! Tell them we need to go to hospital right now!" Mrs. Keaton picked up River and ran towards the front door, River's screams echoing down the hall.

Against everything I had learned in medical school, I scooped up my seizing daughter, cradling her tiny body, feeling her arms and legs hit and kick me, and ran.

Maybe if I would have looked closer, I could've seen the subtly worsening blue shadows underneath her eyes, the increasing pallor of her skin. Maybe, just maybe, I could've helped her sooner.


	3. A New World

Sun shined onto Sherlock's face as he sat in the chair at his desk and he squinted in the rays of the unwelcome intruder. He sighed and lazily scooted his chair to turn his face away from the windows. 221B Baker Street was always so dull when John and the girls weren't home. He hated that John had to work and his daughters needed to go to school. He could just as well teach them by himself, they'd learn more practical lessons anyway.

John had quickly shot down that idea almost as quickly as he had shot that cabbie in their first case.

He smirked to himself as he tapped his fingers on the desk, watching the door, waiting for the rays of sunshine he actually wanted shining on his face.

Seconds became minutes and soon it was quarter to four.

Sherlock became more restless, where were they? They were always home by 3:30, always. Nothing seemed amiss this morning, the girls were happy, John was smiling. Were they kidnapped, hit by a car? He ran his fingers through his hair and chewed his bottom lip, a habit he had since childhood, but only showed up when he was most stressed.

Sherlock picked up his phone when it began to vibrate in his hand. A call? No one ever called him. He glanced at the screen and saw it was from John. His heart began racing, he jumped up and began fiercely pacing back and forth, slamming his thumb on the little green circle.

It was 3:48PM on October 8th.

3:49PM saw the world's only consulting detective fall to his knees, mouth agape, his arms falling to his side, with screams of a little girl and desperate shouts of a former soldier emanating from the phone he gripped in his right hand.

A black car rolled up on the street in front of 221B Baker Street, Sherlock's ride into the depths of Hell had arrived.

* * *

"Sherlock! SHERLOCK!" I shouted into the phone. When he didn't answer, I threw the phone onto the floor and held onto the still seizing child in my lap. Indie's face was turned towards me, her jaw clenched shut, blood and saliva trickled out of the sides of her mouth, staining the Peter Pan collar of her white blouse, her limbs still rhythmically moving back and forth.

River sat in Mrs. Keaton's lap, still screaming, my ears had begun to ring from all of the noise in the little car. My arms ached from holding Indie on my lap and trying to keep her from flopping onto the floor.

Two and a half minutes after it all began, it just as suddenly stopped. Indie began to cry, more blood and saliva pouring out of her mouth, mixing with the tears now streaming down her face, creating a spot of maroon on my khaki trousers. Her tired limbs hung limply and her breathing was shallow.

I placed my hand on her hair and gently brushed my hand down the waterfall of golden curls. I spoke to her softly, comforting her as best I could. Indie weakly reached up to touch my face before her hand again fell into my lap. I grasped her hand in mine and whispered to her how much I loved her, how much Daddy loved her, how we would make her all better again.

The car soon stopped in front of Great Ormond Street Hospital and a team of nurses and doctors stood outside waiting for us. The car door was thrown open and I gave Indie to the first pair of hands that came inside the car.

"Don't take her away! Papa, don't let them take her!" River shouted as she scrambled across the seat. I caught her in my arms before she could get out the door.

"Oh my love, shh, Papa's here, it's going to be alright, Papa's here."

She only sobbed louder.

* * *

I flew into the doors of the A&E, my coat billowing behind me, shoes clicking on the tile, suitcase in hand. John only had time to say that our little girl was very sick and I needed to get to hospital immediately before I had hung up because I couldn't stand the screaming anymore.

"Indigo Rose Watson-Holmes! Where is my daughter?" I shouted at the secretary, who looked up at me with a startled face.

"She's uh, uh…"

"WELL WHERE IS SHE, WOMAN?!" I screamed.

John came running out of the back of the A&E with a dazed look on his face and River in his arms, her face snuggled into his neck. There was a large dark stain on his trousers, Indie had laid on him on the car ride over, the blood was dilute, mixed with saliva then. She was bleeding from her mouth. John's clothes were wrinkled and mussed, blood smeared on his shirt and trousers, Indie was moving, quite violently, on John's lap. Seizure, bit her tongue. A handprint of blood was on River's blouse, likely from John comforting her. Tiny lines of blood streaked down John's left cheek, Indigo's hand.

All we could was stare at each other, alarms and the smell of bleach around us, welcoming us to this new world we were now a part of.


	4. Life is Cruel

After Greg arrived to pick up a now sleeping River, I led Sherlock to Indie's room.

"Now Sherlock, she's sleeping, they gave her medicine to prevent more seizures and it makes people sleep, she's hooked up to IVs and monitors, there's a lot of stuff going on around her right now." I said to him outside of the door. I had no idea how he was going to react.

I knew that he threw all of his emotional capacity onto us, his family. It was like his emotions were caged until we had River and Indie, and then all of the love and concern the man could muster just poured out onto our girls like floodwaters escaping a dam.

He loved us with all of his might, and I knew that he would fear for us with all of his might. I had to tread carefully and prepare my love to see our sick daughter to try and stem the flood of emotion I knew was building up.

I grabbed his hand and said, "Whenever you're ready, love."

After a few moments, he sharply nodded and I opened the door.

She was lying on the bed with her eyes closed, her face whiter than the sheets she rested on, traces of blood still trapped in the dry cracks of her lips, her hair fanned out around her head. The only signs of life were her chest steadily rising and falling and the beeping from the heart monitor.

I glanced up at him. His eyes were wild and filled with tears, his nostrils flaring with his increasingly rapid breaths.

Suddenly he ripped his hand out of mine and briskly walked over to her, setting the suitcase he was holding down on the floor. His shaking hand reached out and began to gently rub her hair.

"John, we have to put her in her nightgown, she can't sleep in anything else! You know she sleeps every night in a princess nightgown! How could you let them put her in this, this is what sick and dying people wear!" his voice cracking.

He rummaged through the suitcase he had brought, clothes, costumes, tutus, stuffed animals, books, and crayons being tossed onto the floor.

My God…he had brought her whole life in that bag.

He pulled out one of her favorite nightgowns and began to maneuver it over her head.

"Sherlock! Hold on a second you're going to pull something off of her, she has IVs you have to be careful!"

He ignored me and continued pulling the nightgown over her head. I dashed over to the bed and placed my hands on Sherlock's. The flurry of activity stopped.

"Let me help you, love."

Tears dropped onto my hands as he weakly nodded.

We eventually got Indie dressed in her Belle nightgown and settled her tan teddy bear and her pink penguin next to her. We sat on either side of her, holding her little hands in ours.

I watched Sherlock's eyes dance up and down, following her chest rise and fall. He began to hum her lullaby and as he continued, I felt my own tired eyes droop. I allowed sleep to come over me, hoping that my dreams would give me another glance at the healthy little girl with her hazel eyes bright and her peals of laughter echoing around me as she danced, begging me to take her to the stars.

* * *

I woke up leaning forward with my head on a pillow on Indie's bed, her hand still clasped in mine. I straightened up, cracking my neck and back along the way. A blanket that had been draped over me fell to the floor.

"You started shivering during the night." a deep voice said across from me.

It was obvious he hadn't slept. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair stuck up all around. His bottom lip was bleeding from being chewed to bits.

"Sherlock, you look like hell." I replied.

"This is Hell, John."

"What's Hell, Daddy?" a small voice squeaked out.

I had never heard more beautiful words.

* * *

We had just turned on Wall-E for Indie to watch when a doctor somberly came into the room and asked to speak with Sherlock and I.

"I don't want to leave my daughter." Sherlock said

"Go Sherlock, I'll sit with her." Molly said. She had come to the hospital as soon as she had heard, she loved spending time with both River and Indie, and usually took them out on Sundays for a "Ladies' Brunch" along with Mrs. Hudson.

I smiled as I thought about a photo hanging on our living room wall from one of these excursions.

River and Indie sat together on a bench with floral cushions. They were dressed in matching lilac dresses with puffed short sleeves that had frills of lilac lace at the collar and along the bottom of the dress. They wore white socks with lace at the top and shiny purple ballet flats. Both of them were wearing a wide brimmed white sunhat with a lilac ribbon tied around the middle of the hat. White satin gloves extended up to their elbows and their pinkies were out as they sipped from white teacups. The corners of their eyes were crinkled, the only indication they were smiling behind their cups of tea.

Whenever we had guests over, they would show them this picture and tell them they were "proper British ladies" and that someday their Uncle Mycroft would allow them to have tea with the Queen.

"John?" a voice shook me out of my memories.

"Dr. Watson, Mr. Holmes, you really need to come with me." the woman in a white coat said.

Sherlock stood as still as a statue, eyes cast down, his shoulders slumped forward. He shuffled towards me and grabbed my hand, wordlessly pulling me towards the doctor.

As the door closed, I could hear Molly and Indie laughing about something that the little robot had done on the TV, the sweet sound comforting me for the briefest moment.

Sherlock continued to pull me along and for the first time in years, I began to pray.

* * *

The doctor's office was nice. Oak walls with oak furniture to match. Pictures of children decorated the walls. I couldn't bear to think if those were the children she had saved, or the children she had lost.

We sat in two chairs placed in front of the desk, but she did not sit behind the desk. She pulled up a chair and sat in a space directly in front of us. She sighed and began to speak.

The details of the discussion were lost as a mind numbing word kept circulating around in my head.

Cancer…cancer…cancer.

Our daughter had cancer.

Sherlock's hand was gripping mine so tightly that my fingers were numb and he kept his eyes down, never glancing at the doctor as she spoke to us.

"So what do we do now?" I asked.

"Well, Indigo has a very rare leukemia, it is aggressive and it is rarely put into remission. It holds an average 6 month survival rate for children even with treatment…"

"Are you saying we shouldn't even attempt to help her?! What about experimental trials? There has to be something, you cannot just be giving up on my daughter!" Sherlock spat at the doctor.

"Sir, what I'm saying is that putting your little girl through chemotherapy and radiation would prolong her life by maybe a few months, but would severely reduce the quality of her life in the months you have left with her. It is yours and your husband's decision ultimately, but it is my duty to you and Indigo to tell you the facts." She gently replied.

He released my hand and placed his head in his hands. His back began to quake.

He popped his head back up and calmly said, "This is your third hospital, you had to move from the others because your husband was abusing you, but you still talk to him, can't get away from your "true love," even though he beats you to a pulp on occasion. Your dress is wrinkled and your hair is slightly messy because you overslept and had to rush to get here. I could go on and on, but I have to get back to Indigo now, do try to get your own life in order before you even dare to tell me that there is no hope for my daughter's life."

"Sherlock..." I said and turned towards his seat, but the door was already slamming shut behind us.

At this point, I normally would've rambled out an elaborate apology for Sherlock's behavior, but I could barely squeak out a "sorry," before I got up and went into the hallway.

The weight of the last day suddenly dropped onto my shoulders and I gasped for air. I stopped just outside the door and sat against the wall, lolling my head back.

The shock of what I had just been told began to wear off and the stoic facade I had built over the last day began to crack. Tears rolled down my cheeks in torrents.

Screams reverberated off the walls around me. I didn't realize they were mine until Sherlock pulled me into his arms and the screams became muffled as I cried into his shoulder.

He just held me as I continued to cry and scream, banging my fists against him.

We would get one more Christmas, maybe one more birthday with Indigo. We would not get those difficult teenage years, to send her off to university, or walk her down the aisle at her wedding. We would not see her fall in love with children of her own.

All we had left were the little things that would become the biggest moments of our lives together with her.


	5. Blind

Indigo was feeling much better by evening. She had decided to wear a tutu over her Elsa and Anna nightgown. Mrs. Hudson brought River to spend the night with us. She was an absolute mess being away from us and with what we knew, we didn't want them to spend another day apart.

Greg had also come by after work and brought the largest teddy bear in all of London, possibly the universe, and a giant cluster of pink balloons for his "Little Miss Sunshine." (His nickname for River was "Squirrel").

We had eaten dinner with River and Indie in her hospital room, even Greg joined in on the meal. Mac-and-cheese, just like Indie had wanted that night that seemed lightyears away. We had not yet told them what the doctor had told us, until we knew for certain what the plan was. We just said that Indie had to stay here for at least another day so that the doctors could watch her and make sure her infection had cleared up.

"Oh okay, can River stay here with me, Papa, I don't care where I am as long as I'm with River."

Her sister nodded in affirmation.

"Yes darling, the doctors have already said yes, you two can even share the same bed tonight!"

"Cool!" Both girls exclaimed and went back to their coloring.

Sherlock's phone buzzed, he popped up from his chair and motioned for me to come with him. It must've been the text from Mycroft that we were waiting for.

"Okay girls, Uncle Gary will sit with you until Papa and I come back, be good for him, alright?"

The girls had gotten used to Sherlock calling their Uncle Greg by every G name in the book and simply replied, "Yes, Daddy!"

* * *

Once we were in the hallway, I asked, "So what did he say, Sherlock?"

"That he would be here immediately."

Well, maybe it was good news then, time would be of the essence after all.

Mycroft was told immediately of Indie's diagnosis, we thought that he of all people could find some experimental trial going on somewhere in the world, or some other doctor who had successfully treated Indie's condition. We were sure that he could find someone for us.

We met Mycroft in a small room near Indie's room.

He sat in a leather chair, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands rubbing up and down his face…wait…was he crying?

Panic radiated off of Sherlock and he swiftly crossed the room, stopping in front of his brother.

"Well, what did you find, Mycroft, where are we going? America? Germany? Where?" Sherlock rattled off.

"There is nowhere to go, Sherlock. Nowhere except back to Baker Street to give that beautiful little girl the best months of her life. I am so sorry brothers mine." Mycroft grimly replied.

I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest.

Our baby was dying.

And there was nothing we could do to save her.

* * *

We stayed in the room for a long time after Mycroft had left to go sit with Indie and River. Sherlock's head lay across my lap, my one hand running through his hair, my other laying over the arm of the navy blue couch we were on. Sherlock's eyes were cold and staring at the ceiling above us and his face was stony.

"How could I have been so blind, John?"

I straightened up a bit and looked down at his face, the once cold and staring eyes now filled with tears as if something had finally broken inside him.

"What are you talking about Sherlock?" I asked. He jumped off my lap and began pacing back and forth in front of me, his arms waving in front of me.

"I not only see things, but observe things, John, I can tell you a stranger's wife is cheating on him, or that a boy is struggling to ask a girl named Kayley to a dance. I can tell you anything about anyone. How couldn't I see that Indigo was so ill, John? I should have seen something, I thought something was wrong when she injured her ankle, but I knew it was most likely just a sprain like you said, John, little girls get sprains and "ouchies" and "booboos." Little girls don't have cancer! Our little girl wouldn't have cancer! I missed the most important observation in the universe…and…I…I killed her, John, this is my fault, I should have seen something and we could have taken her to the doctor and made her all better and I…I"

His mouth kept moving, but no words were coming out. He stopped pacing and crouched on his heels, folding himself inwards, wrapping his arms around his legs, and placing his head on his knees. Raven curls trembled as he rocked back and forth. Sobs wracked his body.

A spark of anger lit up within me. He's right, how hadn't he known this? He knows everything! He must've suspected something when her ankle was hurt, why didn't he say something, he usually never shuts up about his idiotic observations! She's been sick for weeks and he should've known! He should have known. Maybe we could have helped her if we had known earlier.

But, I should've known too.

I'm a bloody doctor. I've seen kids come in with fatigue and sore joints and bruises and go out of the clinic with a possible leukemia diagnosis.

Bruises…

I quickly pulled my phone out and went through my picture gallery, remembering a picture I had taken of the girls in early September.

* * *

It was pouring outside one Saturday afternoon when River and Indie came dashing into the living room. Both girls were in floral print t-shirt dresses, River's dark blue with white flowers and Indie's purple with pink flowers, with gray sparkly leggings underneath. People always assumed Sherlock and I wanted to match them, but they always dressed themselves and usually picked similar outfits because they wanted to be like each other.

"Papa! Daddy! There's so many puddles outside, may we go play in them?" Indie asked, her sweet face shining up at us.

"I grabbed our coats and boots! Get yours, Papa and Daddy! Let's GO!" River shouted, her wild raven curls tossing around.

I laughed and nodded at our precious daughters.

They quickly ripped off their leggings and scrambled into their yellow rain jackets and green frog rainboots.

"It's cold outside! Maybe you should…" My words were lost as they ran out the door and down the steps.

"Go after them Sherlock! You already have your coat on!"

"Obviously, it is quite cold in here, John, maybe you should stoke the fire a bit more before we all catch the death of us?" Sherlock smartly replied and followed our daughters down the stairs.

I am actually raising two 6-year-olds and a 2-year-old, I thought to myself as I shrugged my black jacket on and grabbed an umbrella.

This thought was confirmed when I saw the three of them splashing in the large puddles building up on Baker Street. They were all already thoroughly soaked to the bone.

"Papa! This is such fun, Papa! Come jump with us!" Indie shouted as she jumped and spun around and around, spurts of water coming out from under her rainboots each time.

"Just jump with Daddy, Papa's fine over here!"

I snapped a picture just before I called everyone to come in to get out of our wet clothes, into some warm pajamas, and around the fireplace with hot tea.

It was a lovely picture. Sherlock stood with his arms around River and Indie, his hair matted to his forehead, his jacket weighed down with water, and his face looking towards the camera with a half-smile on his face as he realized what I was doing. The girls were on either side of him, their yellow jackets and frog boots standing out among the grays and blacks of Baker Street. Both of them were looking up at Sherlock with such admiration and love.

What I was looking at were Indie's little knees.

There they were, plain as day. Her knees were peppered with little bruises.

* * *

I had seen them, but at no point did I ever think "cancer." They were just bruises, she just had a sprained ankle. My anger towards Sherlock quickly died. We were both their fathers and we both did not think the worst because how could anyone think that our happy and playful little girl was dying. I felt almost sick for expecting this shaking human in front of me to ever be more than just that, a human being, an exceptionally gifted human being, but a human nonetheless.

I walked over to the shaking form rocking back and forth, knelt down next to him, and wrapped my arms around him. His head fell into my shoulder with a thud and his tears began to soak my jumper. Tears began to fall down my cheeks, some of them hitting my chapped lips. The stinging was a nice distraction from the stabbing I felt in my heart.

"It nobody's fault Sherlock, she had such mild symptoms until yesterday, neither of us could have known, love." I said through my tears.

"I should have known, this is my career, solving puzzles, and I couldn't solve the one that mattered the most in this world," he moaned.

"And my job is to diagnose diseases and save lives and wasn't able to diagnose her and I can't save our little girl's life. Neither of us should blame ourselves for this. It just…happened. The only thing we can do now is fight for her and make her as happy as we possibly can."

He sniffled and I felt him nod his head slowly.

I gently placed a kiss on the top of his head and said, "Let's go love, we should go back to Indie." I stood up, gently tugging him with me, but he stayed glued to the spot.

A few moments went by. Still no movement.

"Sherlock…?"

He looked up at me with the largest eyes I had ever seen. The intense fear that filled them made me take a couple steps backwards.

He whispered, "How do you tell a 6-year-old they're dying?"

His words drove another fist into my already bleeding heart. All I could do was stand dumbfounded.

We hadn't noticed the door open in the middle of our conversation, or the slim figure with a white coat standing in the doorway.

"You tell her the truth. You tell her sister the truth. Then, you fill their days with love and flowers, bubble baths and cuddles, games and parks, tea parties and tutus, coloring books and trips to the Moon. You wipe their tears and comfort their fears when they come. You give Indigo as normal of a life as you can, and you let her go when she's ready."


	6. When She's Ready

By the time Sherlock and I made it back to Indie's room, both girls were fast asleep. River lay on her right side and Indie lay behind her with her IV tubing and tape covered arm thrown over River. Both girls slept like Sherlock, with their limbs sprawled out as far as they could go. Raven and sandy blonde curls intertwined on the pillow they shared and their breaths were in tandem with each other, little snuffles emanating from the girls with each breath.

Greg and Mycroft stood up when we entered the room. Their somber faces contrasted sharply with the glittery stickers on their hands and suit jackets. They held pages torn lovingly from coloring books in their hands.

Greg didn't know Indie's diagnosis or prognosis, but he wasn't stupid, he knew it was bad. He had seen our red, puffy eyes and our dashes in and out of the room to talk to doctors.

I walked over to them and shook each of their hands. Each handshake felt like we were signing a contract together, like we were all in this together, until the end.

"Thank you both for sitting with them," I whispered.

Greg placed his hand on my shoulder and whispered back, "Anytime, I'll spend the day with these angels anytime."

"I'll come by your office tomorrow and explain."

He silently nodded his head and went out of the room, placing his hand on Sherlock's shoulder briefly before leaving.

"Mycroft, thank you too, for everything."

He tapped his umbrella on the floor and sighed.

"If only it were enough, John, if only it were enough."

He left swiftly and silently, only stopping briefly to give a curt nod to his younger brother, who stood still as a statue, not acknowledging Mycroft as he left.

Once the door had been softly closed, we crept over to the side of the bed and Sherlock gently touched the side of River's cheek, her long dark lashes fluttering for a second before she settled back into her dreams. I tucked the soft pink blanket around our girls and placed a feather-light kiss on each of their cheeks.

Neither of us would sleep that night. We held each other's hands and whispered 'I love you' to each other, to the children in the bed beside us. We watched our girls sleep, their last night of peace drifting slowly by.

* * *

Sherlock and I had decided to tell the girls while we were still in the hospital. We wanted as little of these memories as possible to be associated with Baker St. We needed to keep our home as their sanctuary, as our sanctuary.

River and Indie had woken up around 8 AM, as they usually did. The nurses came to unhook everything from Indie and we got both girls into the shower.

I wrapped Indie in a fluffy towel and tickled her. The precious sound of her laughter filled the tiny bathroom.

"Papa! Papa! It tickles!" she managed to get out through her giggles.

"Tickle me, Daddy!" River shouted.

And soon, we were all huddled in the tiny bathroom laughing. This, this is how it should be for the next month, for the next year, for the rest of our lives. Our little girls should laugh, they should play, they should learn, they should grow up to be lovely young women.

But soon, four would be three and our laughter would become quieter, our arms would be emptier, a little girl lost without her best friend, and fathers desperately trying to hold onto the memories of blonde ringlets and shining hazel eyes, alabaster skin and tiny dimples, the happiness, love, and dreams of a 6-year-old girl nicknamed Sunshine.

* * *

We had just put the girls in their bathrobes when I noticed that John was staring off into the distance, a blank look on his face. Indie began to pull at his jumper sleeves.

"Papa, what's wrong? Don't be sad!" Indie said with a lisp from her injured tongue, the only physical sign left of this whole ordeal.

He looked down at her and gave a weak smile.

"Don't worry about Papa, darling. Let's get you dressed, hm?"

He quickly scooped up our little Sunshine and carried her under one arm, before sweeping over to River and I. He picked up River in the same manner and walked out of the bathroom with his two laughing and squirming packages.

I glanced at the clock, 10 o'clock, about an hour before the doctors did their rounds, before we would be able to go back to Baker Street. We dressed the girls in a simple t-shirt and jeans, with pink converse and ponytails.

We could not put this off any longer, we had to tell them now. My heart began racing, I could not bear to do this to my daughters, my two most precious jewels.

John cleared his throat, his blue eyes dulled with pain, his face contorted in a feeble attempt to conceal his anxiety and fear.

"Girls, can Daddy and I sit down with you for a moment? We have something very important to talk with you about."

The girls immediately stiffened. They were highly intelligent and sensitive children and could see right through our lame attempts to hide our sadness and anxiety from them.

Indigo sighed and kicked her legs against the side of the bed.

"Am I very sick, Papa?"

I quickly looked at John, a mixture of confusion, pain, and fear in his eyes, a mixture I was sure was reflected in my own. I could tell John was about to break. His soldier's heart that had been hastily glued back together in the time leading up to this conversation was falling apart before my eyes. He couldn't do this. I had to protect him.

"You and Daddy went out of the room a lot, you both look so sad, Uncle Mycroft looked sad, all of the doctors looked sad. I'm very sick, aren't I, Papa and Daddy?"

I wanted to shut my ears and run away, take John and River and Indigo to another doctor, another hospital that would make my Indigo Rose all better again.

But Mycroft had already spoken to all the top pediatric oncologists in the world, some of them twice over. And they all said the same thing.

Cancer would take our shining, caring, loving little girl away from us forever in less than a year.

I turned to face River and Indie, both of whom were staring at me wide-eyed, with pools of tears in their eyes.

"Indigo Rose, my darling sunshine, listen to me very closely. The doctors have talked to us, from all over the world, can you imagine? People all over the world know your name and love you already my little flower. You have leukemia, my love, which is a disease that is worse than a cold or a tummy bug, but you are strong, and Papa and I, and Uncle Mycroft and Uncle Greg, and Aunt Molly and Nana Hudson, will help you fight so very hard. You'll have to take medicine too, but it's only once a day, and it doesn't taste very dreadful. We are going to go home today and tomorrow we are going to the observatory to look at the stars, won't that be fun, my love? Don't you worry your beautiful minds about this, River Grace and Indigo Rose, Papa and Daddy will take care of everything. You both just keep playing and laughing and being such wonderful little girls. We love you both so very, very much and we are so proud of you."

Tears were running down both of their faces by now and they scrambled into my lap.

After a pause, Indie sniffed and said, "Am I going to have to stay in hospital anymore?"

"I don't want Indie to stay here anymore, Daddy!" River said, with a kick of her foot against the bed.

I brushed stray hairs from both of their foreheads and wiped away the tears on their cheeks.

"No, we're going home today and we will stay there, we will have the doctors come to our flat if we need."

The girls' tears had stopped at this point, telling them that we no longer had to be in this hospital calmed them enough, their immediate fears were gone. John had a strange look on his face and opened his mouth to say something, but I quickly shook my head.

I had handled this just fine on my own, he didn't have to tell them now.

* * *

That night we did whatever the girls wanted to do, Chinese takeaway was ordered, we sung along with Frozen, made mountains of bubbles in the bathtub, and read two books in bed.

After the girls had been put into bed, John and I sat in our bedroom next to each other on the edge of bed in silence.

He was angry, his stiff manner and stubborn silence throughout the day told me that much.

John finally broke the silence.

"You just had to tell them on your own didn't you? I was there, you could have included me, I tried to help, but you just did it all on your own, Sherlock. You have pulled me 'round and 'round every bloody corner of London and I've followed you like a lost puppy for years, but we are working together on this!" John shouted.

"You looked like you were about to break down! I was trying to protect you!"

"And trying to protect me has always done so well before, right Sherlock?"

"You weren't assassinated by a sniper, John, so yes I would say it worked quite well before! I have always done my best to make sure you are safe!"

"Contrary to your belief, Sherlock, I am a grown man, a soldier, and I can damn well take care of myself! Sometimes I wonder if this is even a partnership at all or just the "Sherlock Holmes Show and his sidekick, John Watson!"

I sat there, breathing heavily, my hands clenched in fists, I had not felt such anger in such a long time, and never towards John.

I didn't know what to do with this horrible, overwhelming anger, so as per usual, I took it out on the wall, punching it. Faint red lines appeared on my knuckles, soon becoming a deeper red with oozing blood. I felt a hand grasp my wrist, and an arm hook around my waist.

A tired, teary voice said, "I am so sorry, Sherlock, I should have said something. I could have said something, but I froze when I heard you telling them. I realized then…I couldn't tell them how sick she was, that's why I didn't say anything! If I didn't say it, it wasn't true, if they didn't know, nothing would happen. I am so sorry and I am grateful you were there with me Sherlock and that you will be with me for every step of the way from now until the end."

I turned around and kissed John, our lips moving tenderly against one another, our hands pulling each other close. I felt the warmth radiating off of John, warming my cold, thin body. He smelled of pine and peppermint with a hint of that wretched hospital still lingering.

I pulled away and cupped his cheek with my right hand, running my thumb over the tear tracks still lingering on his face. I placed my forehead against his and closed my eyes.

"But it will happen, John, and we must take each precious day as it comes and keep it in our hearts and minds forever. We will make these next few months happy and carefree. She is incredibly perceptive, John, when she knows, she will ask, and we will help her be ready. We will hold those little girls as tight as we can and when Indigo tells us, we will let her go, and hold River even tighter. It will happen, John, but it isn't happening now, dwelling on her death will not allow us to watch her live."

And what a beautiful life she lived.


	7. Little Girls' Wishes

The next day dawned clear and bright and would remain clear for the rest of the night, a perfect night for the observatory. Indie had chosen to wear her astronaut pajamas, complete with pink tutu, and River had selected to wear the Wonder Woman costume she had worn last Halloween. A chill had settled on London and Sherlock and I were chasing the girls around the flat, trying to get them into their winter coats.

Raven curls flew past Sherlock and I and stopped behind Sherlock's chair. Another set of little footsteps tramped down the stairs and ran into the kitchen behind us.

"River Grace, come out from behind that chair, Indigo Rose, come out from underneath that table. We will be late if you do not!" Sherlock said in an exasperated tone.

His only answer came as soft giggles.

I looked over at him with my eyebrows raised. He smirked and winked at me.

My heart sped up, my limbs began to tingle, only Sherlock Holmes could get a man to turn to mush with just a wink.

"Oh, I don't know how any good astronaut or superhero can get to the Moon without their coat, it is absolutely frigid in space! No one can possibly go into space without their coat, it is simply impossible," he announced, a bit louder than he needed to, with his one foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

Feet scuffled against the floor as the girls dashed out of their hiding spaces, lining up in front of us like they were soldiers in a parade.

"Turn around, girls!" I said in my most commanding tone.

They smiled widely and quickly turned, their pigtails whipping around as they did so.

"Arms out at your sides!"

Sherlock and I then set to work getting the girls into their black pea coats and buttoning them up. Sherlock pulled two pieces of fabric from his pocket and wrapped one around each of their necks.

"I found these scarves online and they're just like mine, but purple instead of blue. Do you like them, my loves?"

River danced around us and shouted, "I love it, Daddy! Thank you, Daddy!" Indie grabbed onto Sherlock's leg.

"Thank you, Daddy," she quietly said.

Sherlock patted her on the head, his eyes shining down on her with such intense love. I quickly pulled up the camera on my phone and took a picture.

It was the first 'after' photo either of us had taken, capturing the quiet strength of this wonderful little girl and the love her Daddy had for her.

I laughed out loud when I saw that I had captured the blur that was our beautiful River Grace running in the background.

It was, indeed, a lovely photo.

"Alright girls, your chariot awaits!"

River grabbed Indie's hand and absolutely flew down the stairs. Sherlock and I were following them when I heard,

"Come on, Papa and Daddy! Don't be so old!"

"River, don't say that to Papa and Daddy, they're just bigger so they move slower!"

"Papa's not that big!"

A deep rumble of laughter came from the man beside me. He doubled over on the stairs, placing his hand on the wall to steady himself, his eyes shining with tears.

"Ha, ha, very funny, I'm still bigger than you silly girls and I say let's get going! We're already going to be late!"

They jumped off the last step and ran to the door, scuffling for a bit before Indie finally grabbed hold of the door and opened it. Both of the girls looked out the door and froze.

"IS THAT A SPACESHIP?!"

"What?" I said as I shook my head in disbelief and stood behind the girls to get a look for myself.

A silver limo waited in front of our flat, metallic "wings" jutted from the top of the limo. Behind these wings, there appeared to be some sort of engine with orange, yellow, and red streamers flowing out from the back. The windows looked like portholes ran along the length of the limo. A man dressed as an astronaut stood by the door, waiting to open it.

Bloody hell, it was a spaceship.

"Do shut your mouth, John, it is a bit unattractive, our girls didn't have time to craft their own spaceship during these past few days, so I found one for them. Our Moon Princess and Prime Minister deserve only the best spaceship in all of Britain to take them to see their kingdom."

He winked and swept past me, guiding the squealing girls towards the "spaceship," his coat billowing behind him.

I shut the door and followed the man who was many things; an arrogant genius, a self-proclaimed sociopath, and the best husband and father I could have ever dream of having for me and my girls.

* * *

River and Indie were practically rolling around the limo with excitement, their incessant chatter sounding like songbirds singing on a spring morning. I smiled and reached for Sherlock's hand that was sitting on the cushion next to me. I took his pale hand in mine and brushed across the scars on his wrist and the back of his hand, the thin, silvery lines somehow feeling even softer than his already soft skin. His head came to rest on my shoulder, his hair tickling my cheek and smelling somewhat floral from his shampoo. I took my hand off of his and wrapped my arm around Sherlock's shoulders, running my hand along his shoulder, feeling the bones of his shoulder beneath his coat.

We arrived at the observatory a few minutes later and were led to a large auditorium with velvet red curtains on the stage and red cushioned seats to match. We took our seats in the front row, the girls sitting between Sherlock and I. The director gave a very nice presentation on the solar system, constellations visible tonight, and the meteor shower that was happening. The girls were happy with the videos the woman was showing and Sherlock sat as still as a statue, soaking up all the information that he had apparently deleted back in primary school.

The time came for all those attending to get a turn looking in the massive telescope of the observatory. Luckily, it was a full moon and our girls could get the best view of their kingdom.

Not many people knew that I was somewhat of an amateur astronomer since my time in Afghanistan. We were stationed in the middle of nowhere, there were no lights to pollute the night sky. Sometimes, when I couldn't sleep, I would sit and look at the stars and find the constellations I knew. It helped me to relax and forget where I was for a time.

I stood by the girls as they looked through the telescope, directing them towards the constellations I recognized.

"There's Pegasus, girls, he…"

"What's a Pegasus, Papa?" River asked.

"Well he was a winged horse, River."

She bounced up and down, pulling on my arm with each jump.

"Can I have a winged horse for Christmas, Papa?"

I laughed and picked her up before she bounced off of the platform we were all standing on.

"Perhaps we could find a stuffed one for you, darling. Alright, Indie, love, it's your turn again to look!"

I passed the squirming girl to Sherlock and helped Indie look through the telescope.

"Hey, I saw a shooting star!" She shouted excitedly, her eye still fixed to the telescope.

"Make a wish, Indie, make a wish! I want to see a shooting star too, Daddy put me down!"

Sherlock laughed and set River down. She ran over to her sister, her untied shoelaces slapping against the floor.

"What did you wish for, Indie?"

Indie leaned over and whispered into River's ear. River's face becoming serious and nodding as Indie spoke.

I saw Sherlock's eyebrow quirk and I quickly shook my head at them. She could tell us on her own if she wanted to.

River stuck her eye to the telescope and after a few moments she squealed, "I see a shooting star!" She quickly pulled her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, making her wish.

"I wish for Indie to get all better so she can stop taking medicine and so that she never has to see the doctors ever again and I wish for Papa and Daddy to get lots more cases and for Uncle Mycroft to smile more, and…!

She continued on, listing all of the people she loved and her various wishes for them, she wished for Greg to take a vacation once in a while (he always says he should go on vacation, especially after dealing with Sherlock on a particularly difficult case), for Molly to finally get the little bulldog puppy she's always wanted, and for Mrs. Hudson to get her own housekeeper.

Sherlock's expression had become dark with the mention of Indie's illness, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. I walked over to him and rubbed the small of his back.

"Come on, Sherlock, don't think about it now, enjoy the rest of the evening with us."

"Yes John, I suppose you are correct." He gave a brief, soft smile, but the sadness still lingered behind his eyes. We walked over to the girls and he knelt down to their level.

"So, my little astronomers, what have you learned this evening?"

They told him to look through the telescope and directed him where to look for the constellations I had pointed out.

And to think that when I first met him, Sherlock didn't even know that the Earth went 'round the Sun.

When the evening was finished, we asked the director to take a photo of us in front of the massive telescope.

The girls stood in front of us and I placed my hand on River's shoulder, Sherlock put his on Indie's shoulder.

"Say astronaut!" The director shouted.

"Astronaut!"

"What a lovely family you all are!" She said as she handed by camera back to me.

Before I could reply, Sherlock spoke up and said, "Thank you, ma'am, I am incredibly lucky to have the best husband and daughters in all the universe. Come John, River, Indigo, let's get back to the limousine." He gave the woman a brief smile as the girls took our hands and we walked toward the exit.

As we settled into our seats, Sherlock began to fiddle with a switch that was on the ceiling of the limo.

"What are you doing, Sherlock?" I asked.

"You'll see, John." He said with a smirk.

"Girls!" Sherlock said, "Papa and I have another surprise for you. Look up!"

At that point, he flipped the switch and the ceiling of the limo brilliantly lit up with small bright dots against the black fabric of the ceiling. They were the constellations that were in the sky tonight.

The only thing shining brighter in that limo was Sherlock's face as the girls shrieked with joy and began to name the constellations they saw.

* * *

We pulled up to 221B with the girls asleep in our laps, light from the 'stars' twinkling on their sweet faces. I gently picked Indie up and we made our way into the flat. Mrs. Hudson came out to greet us and I put my finger to my lips, nodding my head towards the sleeping child on my shoulder. She smiled and went back to her flat, the sounds of tea being made emanating through the doorway.

We walked up the stairs to my old bedroom that was now the girls' bedroom.

The walls were painted a soft yellow with a border of yellow sunflowers. White curtains were shut over the window and a plush light gray carpet lay between the two beds over the dark hardwood. The girls' furniture was also a light gray color. Each girl had their own bookshelf that we had filled with books and other trinkets. A table for arts and crafts sat underneath the window. They had a shared toybox and dollhouse at the other end of their room. The walls were decorated with drawings done by the girls and posters of Disney Princesses and, more recently, space-themed posters. Sherlock had also added a periodic table to the wall ('They can never start learning too early, John,' he replied when I saw him tacking it to the wall.)

Indie's bedcovers were white with tiny pink roses dotted on the fabric. She had to sleep with two pillows, River slept with only one.

I tucked Indie into her bed, thankfully she was already in her pajamas. I only had to take her tutu off so the fabric wouldn't be crushed while she slept. Sherlock laid River, Wonder Woman costume and all, under her blue polka-dotted bedcovers and tucked her in. We kissed each of them on the forehead and turned on the nightlight that was plugged in near the door.

I shut the door quietly behind me, leaving our beautiful girls to dream of flying among the constellations with shooting stars falling around them.

Sherlock and I went to bed smiling that night.


	8. A Sleepless Night

Gunshots and screams echoed around me…the sand was hot beneath my bare feet…not again…not again.

Wait…bare feet? That isn't right.

Papa?, a faint voice whispered.

Indigo? She couldn't be here, how could she be here in Afghanistan?

Papa? the voice said again, this time the voice sounded much more frightened.

I spun around and around, my feet kicking up the sand, sweat dripping down my face.

Where was she?

There! On the hill!

"I'm coming, Indigo, Papa's coming! Everything's going to be alright now!" I ran towards the small figure in the distance.

Papa, help me, help me Papa, please.

"You'll be alright, love, just hold on for Papa, just a little longer."

I ran and ran, but she wasn't getting any closer.

The world began to shake around me, the sand swallowing me up.

"No! INDIGO!" I shouted, my mouth filling with the gritty sand.

The last thing I heard before my head went under was the screams of my daughter.

* * *

I woke up with a start, in an unfamiliar room, still in my pajamas.

Before I could shout the number of expletives I had lined up, I heard someone, no many people, crying, sobbing, absolutely wailing.

I followed the sounds of mourning, through narrow corridors that twisted and turned like a maze, the crying getting louder as I went along.

I ended up in the doorway to an ornately decorated room, dark wood paneled the walls, plush red carpeting lining the floor, pictures of royalty hung on the walls and sat on tables.

A crowd of people stood in a half circle around the front. They were all wearing the same clothes, had the same hairstyle, and were all the same height. Their cries and wails became more and more deafening the longer I stood there.

I walked towards the crowd, holding my ears closed from the noise.

A floorboard under my foot creaked, the wails stopped, and the people turned towards me.

They went from nobody, to everyone I knew.

Sherlock stood at the front, his face ashen gray and his eyes were blank, but filled with tears. He held River in his arms, she was pulling at her hair and repeatedly banging her head into Sherlock's shoulder.

Greg, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Sarah, James Sholto, Harry, everyone I had ever known stood around them, their eyes staring, with tears running down their faces.

I felt myself shaking, I turned to run away from whatever hell I had walked into, when a deep voice moaned,

"John, come say goodbye to our daughter."

I felt my body being jerked forward by some unseen force and I found myself in front of my little girl lying in a white coffin. Her blonde curls laid perfectly around her head, her eyes closed, the corners of her mouth were so very slightly upturned in a peaceful smile. Her body was surrounded by daisies, roses, lilies, flowers of every kind. She was dressed in a hospital gown and her hands lay across her stomach.

No...this couldn't be Indie, this couldn't be my daughter, we had some time with her yet…we had more time.

I quickly reached out to touch her little neck, to check for a pulse, to check for any signs of life from my precious child.

As I placed my fingers on her neck, her eyes popped open. She looked right at me, her eyes clouded with confusion.

"Papa, why didn't you save me?"

Tears poured down my cheeks and nausea overcame me, I felt so weak, so very weak and my knees buckled beneath me.

The colors around me spun until everything went black.

Why didn't you save me, Papa?

I jolted upright, gasping for air. The sheets and covers were cold and soaked through, my t-shirt and pajama pants were stuck to my body. The room was dark except for a sliver of light coming through the slightly open door. I stumbled out of bed and towards the door.

I had to get to Indigo, she wasn't gone, she couldn't be, not yet.

We had so many things left to do.

I fumbled my way up the stairs, ignoring the worried whispers of my name coming from the front room.

I opened the girls' door and sighed with relief at the mess of blonde curls peeking out from under the pink rose covers. I tiptoed to Indie and picked her up, covers and all, putting her face next to my cheek.

Her steady breathing told me she hadn't woken up and more importantly, that she was okay.

I sat down on her bed, her pillow behind my back, and held her like I did when she was a baby. More tears dripped onto the covers and I struggled to keep my body from shaking with the sobs I was trying to keep inside.

Sherlock came up soon after, his face contorted in an all too familiar worry.

"Is she alright, John?"

I nodded my head and got up, placing Indie back on the bed. I kissed her forehead. Good, no fever.

I walked past Sherlock and went down the stairs. His swift footsteps following closely behind.

I sat on my chair and placed my head in my hands, unleashing the sobs I had been holding in.

Thin arms wrapped around me and gently pulled me forward, my head landing on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Coffin, Indigo, flowers, dead…" A trail of nonsense streamed out of my mouth, interjected with hiccupping sobs.

Sherlock said nothing. What could he say really? He couldn't say it was just a nightmare, that she would be alright and we'd never have to bury our little girl.

He turned his head towards me, his lips brushing against my cheek.

"Come, John, let's lie down, let's talk about the girls' party this weekend, we still have to decide on party favors for the guests and the last few presents for the girls. After all, our girls only turn six and a half once."

* * *

It was Mycroft's idea (of all people) to celebrate the girls' six and a half birthday at the end of this month, while Indie was still…well.

He was even more devoted to the girls than he was before Indie became ill. He came to the flat every other day, usually toting along some sweets or toy for the girls and often stayed for at least an hour to play with them or read with them. On weekends, he would take the girls wherever they wanted to go, alternating who got to pick the destination each week. Sherlock and I would often come along on these trips and I had a pile of pictures stacked on the desk from these weekends. Photography had become somewhat of a therapy for me, I suppose.

Mycroft and the girls standing in front of a T-rex fossil, Sherlock and I and the girls sailing boats on the pond on Mycroft's property, the girls and I in front of the penguin exhibit at the zoo, River and Indie lying on a picnic blanket reading a book together. I had even managed a photo of Sherlock and Mycroft standing somewhat near each other and looking mildly happy.

Sherlock and I talked for an hour or so about our plans for the party, his arms wrapped around me, until he got up and turned out the light and reminded me that today was Saturday and River had decided that she wanted to go roller-skating for our weekly trip.

"It wouldn't do for you to be exhausted, now would it, John?"

"Well same goes for you. You haven't slept more than 6 hours in the last 2 days, you bloody idiot, and you solved our last case 4 days ago. There's no reason you should be awake all night, now go to sleep."

He merely grunted in response and got out of bed and started towards the door.

"Sherlock, please come back to bed and get some sleep?"

"Not tired."

After he quietly shut the door behind him, I sighed and laid my head down on my pillow. I was on the edge of sleep when I heard papers being violently shuffled in the front room. I tossed the covers off of me and shoved my feet into my slippers, grumbling all the while about a certain insomniac genius.

I found him sitting in his armchair, papers strewn all about him, tears pouring from his eyes. He didn't budge when I entered the room and wouldn't even flinch when I waved my hand in front of his face.

"Sherlock?"

I shook his shoulder. Nothing.

"Sherlock, please come back to me. We can talk about whatever these are, I can help you."

"'m sorry, can't help her, can't help." He said, his voice the faintest of whispers.

It was then I saw the title of one of the papers on the floor. It was about Indie's illness. I picked it up and fell back into my chair. The article was printed 3 days ago. The corner of the papers was bent and torn and there were tears along the edge of the paper, as if someone was rapidly turning the pages. There was blotted ink on the pages where it looked like tears had fallen.

Oh, Sherlock...

A few minutes passed before he finally spoke coherently.

"It has been nearly a month since Indie's been diagnosed and she hasn't changed a bit, John. I thought, maybe, there was something in the literature about a possible cure. Something that would work while she's still so well. I thought I could find something, synthesize something, even if it was only theoretical in the papers, I could do it."

"Sherlock, we know that her illness is aggressive, with a rapid decline. Indie will be dancing and playing one day, and the next she'll be too fatigued to get out of bed, too sick to eat, too weak to even move," I said, my voice breaking, "You blocked all the keywords concerning her illness from our web search and hid all my textbooks about pediatric oncology soon after our last meeting with the doctor. You told me that we knew all that we needed to know about what the coming months would bring and we didn't need the temptation to keep researching about it, trying to find a cure that doesn't exist."

No response. I knelt down in front of him and brushed his tears away with my thumb. He looked at me with the saddest face I had ever seen.

"You're torturing yourself, Sherlock, promise me you'll stop this. You need to stay healthy, for her, for our little girl. Please, Sherlock, for us, please stop."

He gave me the tiniest of nods before placing his lips on my forehead and murmuring, "I promise, John."

"Good, now let's get these papers cleaned up and get back into bed."

We gathered up the papers into a folder and placed it in on our bedroom dresser. We fell into bed to get whatever sleep we could manage before the girls woke up.

* * *

I woke to the smell of breakfast being made and the sounds of our girls bouncing around the flat.

I was getting ready for the day, when I noticed the folder was gone from our dresser.

Damn him, he promised.

Little hands pounded on the door and I opened it only to have two excited little girls attach themselves to my legs.

"Papa! Come out, it's time for breakfast! Daddy made stars!" River shouted.

"Stars! Well then, I best get out there and make us all some galaxy smoothies!"

I lumbered down the hall with the squealing and laughing girls still on my legs. When we got to the kitchen, they got off and scrambled into their chairs. Sherlock was at the stove, frying bacon.

It was an odd sight, to say the least, Sherlock hardly ever made food. He turned around and softly smiled at me.

"Good morning, John, would you like star French toast, or star pancakes?"

"Uh, French toast, I suppose."

"That's what I'm having, Papa!" Indie shouted from her chair. River looked slightly hurt that I wasn't also having pancakes like she was.

"Well, why don't you make me both, Sherlock, I'll sample both of our girls' favorite stars," I said, winking at River and Indie, who giggled in response, "let me go grab my mug from the front room and I'll be right back to start making our galaxy smoothies."

I grabbed my mug and noticed that the fire was particularly large this morning. I took a closer look and found a scrap of burned paper with medical jargon on it.

"It was cold this morning."

Startled, I turned to find Sherlock leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed..

"Yeah, it was a bit chilly in here," I said. I silently mouthed 'thank you' to him. He nodded his head and turned back into the kitchen.

I took the scrap of paper and threw it into the fire, watching it be consumed by the flames.

"Papa! Hurry up! Daddy's almost done cooking!"

"Coming, love!"

And so I went.


	9. A Splash of Purple and Blue

"I was the best at roller skating! Wasn't I, Papa?" Blonde curls shouted as she twirled around me.

"You both were very good at skating, love, better than poor old Daddy, hm?"

"I can hear you, John, I have very good hearing." Sherlock shouted from the kitchen where he was finding ice to apply to a very sore bottom.

"Daddy, is your bum okay, you fell a lot!" River yelled back.

"Quite sore, I'm afraid, darling. John, can you come in here?"

River looked up at me worryingly and whispered, "Will Daddy need a new bum?"

I chuckled, "No River, Daddy will be just fine. Play with your sister until Daddy and I come back."

She ran over to where Indie was playing with a few dolls and sat. Content that the girls were occupied, I walked into the kitchen and found the world's only consulting detective standing at the counter, holding a bag of frozen peas to his bottom.

"Oh good, John, can you hold this? I need to stain these livers before the chemical wears off."

"Hold what? And what did we say about experiments in the kitchen, Sherlock? Children, remember? Our children?"

"Nothing is harmful and they'll go straight into the fridge we have in our room. Now, can you hold the peas?"

"You want me to hold the peas on your bum?"

"Well, you have no problem with holding my bottom otherwise, John." He said quietly, winking at me.

"Quiet, Sherlock, the girls!"

"I was quiet, now, will you help me?"

"Fine, but this better be quick, there is nothing I want to do more on an afternoon off than hold peas to your skinny arse."

"I did fall quite a lot, John, it hurts."

I moved over and took the bag from him. He started applying a viscous blue liquid to the livers he had in a bowl. After a few moments, he seemed satisfied and began moving towards our room. His sharp hiss of pain took me by surprise.

"It hurts that bad, does it?"

He simply glared at me in response.

"Well, I won't be standing behind you and holding peas on your bum for the next 20 minutes."

Sherlock's eyes widened into puppy dog eyes. "But it makes it feel better, John," he said, almost pleadingly.

I spotted the plastic wrap sitting on a shelf and had a brilliant idea. I grabbed it and began wrapping it around Sherlock, keeping the peas in place.

"What are you doing to me, John? Take that off." He said, his brow furrowed.

"It's a hands-free system. There. Now keep that on for the next 20 minutes or so, should keep the swelling down and keep bruising to a minimum."

"I look ridiculous, John."

"We're at home, Sherlock, this isn't a fashion show. Now go put your livers in the fridge before they…go bad, or whatever."

The mention of his livers seemed to kick him into gear and he began to waddle away.

I burst into a fit of laughter so hard that tears began to roll down my cheeks. The girls ran into the kitchen, laughing.

"What's so funny, Papa?" River asked between her giggles.

As if on cue, Sherlock waddled back into the room and the girls roared with laughter. Sherlock continued to dramatically waddle around the kitchen, opening and closing each of the cabinets. His act made the girls laugh even harder and they fell to the floor and began to roll around.

The whole scene was absolutely, wonderfully ridiculous.

"Alright everybody! Time for lunch! How does grilled cheese and tomato soup sound?" I said, once we all had calmed down enough to speak again. Everyone affirmed that this was fine with them and I set to work.

Both girls wanted to help make lunch and I had them butter the bread and set the sandwiches up before I set them in the pan to grill. They stood on their little pink and purple stools to watch me cook.

"Papa, I want to become a chef when I grow up," River said as I flipped the first sandwich over.

"Oh yeah, what kind of chef, River?" I asked.

"Probably a Chinese food chef because you and Daddy love it so much. And then at night, I'll be a detective just like Daddy, catching all the bad people!" River said happily.

"Well, I want to be a doctor for puppies, and maybe cats if they like me." Indie chimed in.

I felt a stab in my heart. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sherlock twitch, ever so slightly. It was never easy, for either of us, to listen to this wonderful, sweet, intelligent, but dying little girl declare the plans for her future. "A veterinarian, love, that's what a doctor for puppies are called."

"Well that's what I want to be, and I already read lots of books about it so I think I'm ready." She said proudly.

I smiled at her, "I'm sure you are my little Sunshine."

She beamed up at me, her little dimples showing. The shadows under her eyes have gotten a little darker, I worriedly noted. Maybe we would have to up the dose of her medications again. We had to add 3 more medicines to her daily regimen, for a total of 4 medicines, and told Indie that the medicines would help her not feel sick. Indie took everything in stride, as she always does. They have been keeping her little body as healthy as it could be, for now, but we all knew that the effects of her illness would be too much to overcome eventually.

The grilled cheeses were done and the soup was warm. "Girls, can you get Daddy for lunch? It's almost ready." They hopped off their stools and went into the front room, calling Sherlock for lunch. He still barely ate, but I made him at least pretend to eat when we were eating with River and Indie. I didn't want them to think it was okay to not eat. He usually took little nibbles of whatever we were eating and somehow hid the rest. Today though, he ate most of his meal. I raised my eyebrow at him, and he just shrugged at me.

He put his dishes in the sink and went back to his reading.

"May we be excused, Papa?" River asked, her body already halfway out of the chair. "Of course, darling. You both did very well eating lunch today." I said. They smiled at me, put their dishes in the sink, and ran into the front room, chattering away. I began to tidy up when I heard Sherlock step into the kitchen.

"John, I'll clean up, go and relax."

I turned and stared at him, momentarily stunned, he never cleaned (unless forced to by yours truly).

"Uh, alright then, here," I said, handing him the sponge, "you do know how to do this right?"

He looked slightly hurt, and I immediately felt slightly bad.

"Of course, John, I'm hardly an idiot."

"Right, well, I'll be in here if you need me."

I joined the girls in the front room. They were running around playing tag in their little sock feet.

"Be careful girls, don't want to be falling like Daddy did today." I said.

They stopped their game and River shouted, "Papa is the new base! Indie, try and catch me!"

Raven curls flew at me and landed in my lap, shifting me backwards in my chair with a slight oof.

As soon as she landed, she flew off again, dodging Indie's outstretched hand by a millimeter. Soon, Indie bounced onto my lap.

"Timeout, River, timeout, I'm tired." Indie said, catching her breath. She snuggled back into my arms. "Can I go to sleep, Papa? I'm so tired."

"Let's get you up to your bed, Indie, then you can take a nice nap. Don't want to be tired for dress shopping later."

I was going to take the girls, along with Molly and Mrs. Hudson, out to the shops to find dresses for their party in a week. Sherlock decided he wanted to be surprised and refused to go shopping with us.

* * *

"Fathers don't usually see their daughters in their dress until their wedding day, so too, I do not want to see my daughters in these dresses until the party." He had said to me when I brought up the trip.

I furrowed my brow, I didn't quite understand, they were having a birthday party, not a wedding.

He sighed. "It's the only chance to see our little Sunshine in a ballgown, with her hair and makeup done. It's as close to a wedding as we're going to get with her."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. I hadn't even thought of it like that.

"Well, do what you'd like, I'll go and help them pick their dresses out. I don't want to miss a moment with them, with her." He nodded and crossed the room, enveloping me in a hug. "You're an amazing father, John." I swallowed the lump in my throat and just nodded against him.

Sometimes words were just too hard to find.

* * *

I scooped Indie in my arms and went to her room, getting her changed out of her jeans and jumper into her pajamas. As she tugged her pajama shirt over her, I noticed a splash of purple and blue across her back. I frowned. It was quite a large bruise, bigger than any other I'd ever seen on her. I began to gently press on it.

"Ow, Papa, that hurts." Indie said with a small cry.

"I'm sorry love, I just have to look at it. Did you fall? Did someone hit you at school?"

"I think I bumped it on my desk, but it didn't hurt at all. Is it bad, Papa?" She said, her little brows raised in worry.

"Oh no, Indie, it's just a big bruise that's all, it'll heal. Don't you worry about a thing." I gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Now, off to bed, I'll wake you up when Aunt Molly gets here."

"Love you, Papa!" She sang, climbing into bed.

"Love you too, sweetheart." I watched as her eyes closed and her breathing evened out. I tiptoed to the door and went down the stairs. Sherlock looked at me, anxious eyes following my every move.

"I just put her down for a nap, she said she was getting tired."

He simply nodded and said, "Ah, I see."

So much more was said silently; fatigue, bruising at a light bump. She was getting a little worse, a little bit sicker.

The silence between us was broken by little feet padding down the hallway as River came back from using the bathroom. "Is Indie okay, Papa?" She asked as she climbed into Sherlock's lap. I sat down in my chair. "Oh yes, she's just having a bit of a nap, I'll get her up when Aunt Molly gets here so we can go shopping."

"Oh okay." She said, settling into Sherlock's arms as he handed her the iPad to play on.

My arms felt decidedly empty. There were usually two little girls for us to hold, one for each of us. I didn't like the emptiness. I switched on the telly and sat the pillow behind my back on my lap. We sat there contentedly for an hour, before a small knock on the door signaled Molly' arrival.

River popped off of Sherlock's lap and ran to the door, swinging it open and practically tackling Molly with a hug.

"Oh, hello River!" Molly said with a laugh.

"Come in Molly, Indie's upstairs napping, I'll go get her awhile, make yourself at home."

She smiled at me and River pulled her into the room, chattering about the level she had just beaten on her game.

"Hello Molly, it's very nice to see you" Sherlock said with a nod and a soft smile. They set about to talking, River as always taking the lead.

I went upstairs and picked Indie up and set her on her feet.

"Good morning, Sunshine, Aunt Molly's here, it's time to head out shopping!"

After a few moments and soft grumbles, she let me change her out of her pajamas and back into the outfit she had on during the morning. She held her arms up to me as we were getting ready to go back downstairs.

"Carry me, Papa?"

"Up we go then, love, but mind, I can't carry you through all the shops, you're getting to be such a big girl." I said, picking her up.

We went back downstairs, Indie immediately perking up with the sight of Molly and her sister. I set her down and she went over to them, shouting her greetings.

We bundled them into their coats and their scarves from Sherlock as it was a bit of a windy November day.

"Alright Sherlock, we're heading out, there's leftover chicken in the fridge, don't blow the flat up, we'll be back by 8."

"I am perfectly capable of being alone for a few hours, John." He said, setting Indie down after she had given him a goodbye kiss.

"Yeah, tell that to the exploded tea kettle sitting in the trash bins." I said, turning and shutting the door, just catching his smirk as the door shut. God, I should probably buy another kettle while were out, just in case he repeats his 'experiment' tonight.

The girls bounded down the stairs, knocking furiously on Mrs. Hudson's door.

"Hello dears! How 'bout a biscuit before we set out, hm?" She said, handing the girls two chocolate biscuits.

"'hank you, 'ana Hudson!" The girls said, their mouths stuffed with biscuit.

"Of course, anything for my girls! Well, let's be off then, it's already getting dark."

The girls took Mrs. Hudson by the hand and talked with her about what they were doing in school, how Sherlock had fallen so much while roller skating today, about what kind of dresses they wanted. They forged ahead of us, leaving Molly and I a bit behind.

"So, how is she doing, John? How are all of you doing?" Molly asked, once we were a safe distance behind.

"She's been doing great actually, she was a bit tired today, but that's to be expected sometimes, I suppose. We're just trying to keep everything as normal as we can, you know? She's going to school as long as she's able. We keep their bedtimes the same. River is doing well, running around, talking all of our ears off. They're both doing so well in school, I'm so proud, Sherlock is too, keeps saying we have two little geniuses on our hands and that we should enroll them in a higher grade so they don't get bored like he did. Sometimes he gets in one of his moods, and I'm always sure it's because of Indie's illness."

She gave me a soft smile, "But how are you doing?"

I forced a small smile onto my face, "Oh, I'm alright, as long as I keep busy, I'm alright."

She looked back at me with sad eyes and squeezed my hand gently and said, "Well if there's anything you or Sherlock need, I'm just a call or text away."

"Thank you, Molly, we truly appreciate everything. Well, I think we're here, by the looks of the impatient little girl I see ahead of us." Molly laughed as we hurried to catch up to the others who were already waiting by the door of the dress shop.

"Papa, you and Aunt Molly are so slowwww." River said, with all the petulance of her Daddy.

"Sorry, love, we were just having a bit of a chat. Let's head in, shall we?" I opened the door and off they went to the back of the store, where the girls' dresses were. Mrs. Hudson laughed and said, "My, those girls never stop do they!" I took Mrs. Hudson by the arm and led her into the shop, "No Mrs. H, they love living life too much for that." She patted my arm and leaned her head into my shoulder as we continued on into the shop, following the shouts and giggles of the little girls we all loved so much.

After an hour and a half of picking dresses and twirling around the room in each of them, the girls had finally picked out the dresses they wanted. Both had chosen full-length ballgowns to wear to the party. River's gown was had layers of light purple organza flowing down the bottom of the dress, the curved edges of the fabric making each layer stand out. The bodice of the dress was white in color, with a purple organza rose at the right shoulder and silvery beading in the shape of roses. The sleeves were of the same white material and ended right above her elbows. Indie had chosen a baby blue gown with a wide organza skirt. The skirt was peppered with white roses sewn onto it and the bodice of the dress had a baby blue lace overlay that continued into long sleeves. A thin, white ribbon was tied into a bow at the front of the dress. Each would wear white ballet flats and white stockings with the dresses.

Mycroft's seamstress had already fitted the gowns to the girls and I paid the cashier with the credit card Mycroft had given us. I set up a time to come pick up the gowns on Saturday morning and we all went off on our way. As it was only 7 o'clock, we stopped by a fish and chips shop for dinner. We had almost finished eating when I noticed Indie precociously wrapping her last piece of fish and some chips up in the wrapper.

"Taking that home for a midnight snack, love?" I jokingly asked her.

"I'm taking some home for Daddy, fish and chips are his favorite," she said with a grin.

She always was so thoughtful, so kind, our little girl with a heart of gold. A nudge at my side brought me out of my thoughts and I looked back at Indie, who was eagerly waiting for my reply.

"They are his favorite, I'm sure he'll love to have that for dinner tonight. Here, put them in my bag."

She scrambled over to me and put the package in the bag I carried that had extra clothes, wipes, tissues, medicine, whatever we may need while we're out. I've had it since the girls were babies and Greg jokingly called it my "man purse."

With Sherlock's dinner safely tucked away, we made our way out of the shop and back onto the street. Indie was being carried by Molly and was chatting away with her, telling her how excited she was for the party and how they are the only girls in their class who have ever had a six and a half birthday party. River sat on my shoulders, pointing out all of the things she saw on the street. Eventually, we reached the door to 221B and Molly said her goodbyes. A chorus of 'I love you, Aunt Molly!' followed her down the street as the girls clambered inside.

"Goodnight Nana Hudson, thank you for helping us with our dresses!" River said, Indie following with a quieter 'thank you, Nana Hudson.'

"Oh you're welcome, dears, remember to come down tomorrow at noon for lunch!"

"Goodnight Mrs. H, thanks for all your help," I said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before ushering the girls upstairs.

The flat sounded much too quiet and there was only a soft, blue glow coming from the crack at the bottom of the door. I imagined everything from radiation to some sort of fire before I slowly eased the door open.

I laughed to myself when I found Sherlock curled up on the couch, the telly flashing brightly with some crap TV show.

"Is Daddy alright?" River asked worriedly.

"Shh, he's alright, just asleep, but I think he would love to be woken up by his two most favorite girls in the world, don't you think?"

"Come on, Indie!" River whispered, pulling her along to the couch where Sherlock lay. They bounced onto him, his head jerking up with the sudden weight on him. I crossed into the kitchen to put the leftover food in the fridge.

"Oh 'ello girls, mmm finished shopping already?" He said sleepily.

"Daddy, I brought fish and chips home for you, your favorite." Indie whispered to him.

"Thank you, sweetheart, that will be a most welcome snack for later." Sherlock replied, a bit more awake this time.

I finished putting things away in the kitchen and came into the front room, sitting on the edge of couch next to Sherlock and the girls. I wrapped my arm around River and Indie, squishing us all into the cushions in a hug.

Sherlock groaned underneath all of us and I looked over at him, worried that we really were bothering him. Instead, I saw the man I loved with a huge smile on his face. His eyes caught mine and he shook his head with a laugh and settled his head back onto the couch.

We laid there for a few minutes until I saw River yawning.

"Alright, girls, off to bed I think, almost bedtime."

"Can we sleep in your bed tonight, Papa?" Indie asked me, her hazel eyes shining at me with anticipation.

"Just for tonight, girls, then back to your beds tomorrow."

"Thank you, Papa!" Indie said as she slid off of Sherlock, stopping to give me a kiss on the cheek before running upstairs to get her pajamas on. River quickly followed after her.

"Did the girls find proper dresses?" Sherlock asked as he straightened up and stretched out his arms.

"They're perfect, Sherlock, you'll absolutely love them."

"Good, only the best for our girls, John, only the best." He said, giving me a kiss on the lips.

Soon, little feet pattered down the stairs and we made sure the girls were brushing their teeth before Sherlock and I got ready for bed. The girls crept into our room after they were done and we all got into bed, the girls laying between Sherlock and I. The girls told Sherlock about their shopping adventures until they became quiet and I heard soft snores coming from them.

I fell asleep with a little hand in my face and a foot pushed against my back, tiny limbs tangled with my own, soft snores lulling me into a peaceful darkness.


	10. Her Last Birthday

"We're coming in now, Sherlock!" John shouted through the door to our flat.

The door opened and two perfect little girls appeared, their dresses sweeping just above the floor, soft pink roses weaved into braided crowns atop their heads, their ringlets flowing past their shoulders, and their faces brightened with just a touch of makeup. My daughters looked absolutely beautiful, angelic even.

"Come here, my darling princesses," I said to them, holding my arms out to them.

They hurried over, the soft swish swish of fabric following them, and rushed into my arms. I could hear John admonishing them to keep their dresses and hair tidy for the pictures we were taking before the party.

"Calm down, John, they're the most beautiful girls in the world, their pictures will be impeccable." I said as I stood the girls up in front of me and fixed their dresses where they had been mussed.

"What does impeccable mean, Daddy?" Indigo asked.

"It means perfect and you are both my perfect girls, the most beautiful, intelligent, and loving girls in this whole world."

"Papa said that too when we got done at the hairdressers, he said we got all that from you, Daddy, but I think we got it from both of you." Indigo said.

I looked over at John. He was standing by our desk, hands in the pockets of his jacket. A gentle smile was crossing his face.

I met his eyes and said, "Yes, that's exactly right, Sunshine, you got it from both of us."

At that moment, Mrs. Hudson hurried into the flat, fussing over John and I, fussing over the girls, snapping photos, and hurrying John to get into his suit for the party. I slipped into my coat and scarf and walked toward the door.

"Where are you going, Sherlock Holmes?" Mrs. Hudson scolded as I walked past her.

"Out."

* * *

I came out of our bedroom to find that Sherlock had disappeared ten minutes before the car was coming to take us to where we were having pictures done. Mrs. Hudson must've recognized the look on my face as my I'm going to wring Sherlock's neck when I find him face and promptly ushered the girls downstairs with promises of biscuits.

I took out my phone and began furiously texting.

Where are you, Sherlock?

Out. Acquiring a last minute necessity for the party.- SH

We have everything! And if we forgot something, surely Mycroft's people could get it at this point. The car will be here any minute for us!

I'll be there on time. Do not worry, John.- SH

Yeah, I'll get right on it.

Straighten your tie, it's a bit crooked.-SH

What? How could he possibly…oh of course it's crooked. Of course, Sherlock bloody Holmes can tell my tie is crooked from a few texts. I straightened the light blue tie and made my way downstairs, buttoning my black jacket on the way.

I knew of a field outside of the city that rolled with hills where tall grass grew. Harry and I often picnicked there with our parents when we were young. The sunsets there were gorgeous and would serve as the perfect backdrop for our pictures. We were met there by Molly, Greg, and Mycroft, who we wanted in the pictures as well, wouldn't do to have family pictures done without the godparents would it?

True to his word, Sherlock came right on schedule, sweeping his way into the group as if he had been there all along. The photographer gathered us all and set about posing us this way and that way. He took pictures of us all together, with the girls, the girls together, and finally, the girls on their own. The whole session took about an hour and ended just as the sunlight began to die behind the horizon.

"Can I take a peek?" I asked the photographer.

He nodded his head and scrolled through some of the pictures on the TV screen he had set up. The group ones were the most entertaining, one caught Mycroft mid-blink, one had Greg turning his head, Mrs. Hudson was chatting away to me in one, and I was giving a glare in another to Sherlock for rambling on about the murder he had solved only 2 km away from here.

They were all charming, but none of them could compare to the pictures we had gotten of River and Indie.

A rope swing with a wooden seat hung on one of the trees in the field and he had taken pictures of the girls in it. There was one of River, grinning mischievously at the camera, her blue eyes as deep as oceans, and her hands gripped the ropes like she was about to take off. Indie sat on the swing with her feet crossed, her head leaning against the farthest rope, and a small closed-lipped smile on her face. The sun reflected off her eyes, making them look almost green.

The last photo was of the girls standing with their backs to the camera holding each other's hand, their hair blown by a breeze that had come by. I stared at the photo much longer than the others, until I felt a large hand grab my own and gently tugged me away from the picture.

And I'm glad he did. I didn't want to imagine River's hand empty any more.

* * *

"That was fun, Papa!" River shouted as she and Indie skipped back to the car. Indie followed that with a "Thank you, Papa!"

I laughed to myself and we hurried to keep up with them. We piled into the car and I began to brush their hair and tidied up their dresses from their time in the field. Thankfully, they didn't get any dirt on their dresses and only a tiny bit on their shoes. The trip to the ballroom was filled with the girls recounting the look on Mycroft's face when a mouse had scurried across his newly shined shoes and when Greg almost fell after tripping over a mole hill. By the end of the ride, Indie was leaning against Sherlock, her eyes drooping closed. River began poking at her, trying to get her to wake up.

"River, let her be. She's tired." Sherlock said.

She began to pout, I held my arms out to her and she came over and sat in my lap.

"You should try to take a nap too, sweetheart, it's been a long day and you don't want to be sleepy during your party do you?" I asked her.

She grumpily shook her head no and she laid her head on my shoulder. Sure enough, within minutes, she was fast asleep. Sherlock smiled at me and leaned his head back, closing his eyes, probably heading into his mind palace for the rest of the trip. Mrs. Hudson and I chatted quietly until we pulled up to the hotel we were holding the party at. She shook Sherlock gently until he came back to us. I scooted out of the car holding River and Sherlock did the same with Indie. We went into the hotel and found a room by the ballroom to lay the girls down to let them finish their naps.

"Go ahead and oversee everything, John, I'll sit with them until they get up." Sherlock said, settling into a chair in the corner of the room.

"Well if you're sure, Sherlock, but when I come for you all, they need to have their hair fixed (again) and make sure they look as perfect as when I brought them home this afternoon.

"Never fear, John, I have it all under control. Now, go."

* * *

John left the room and I sat on my phone, running through potential cases for the upcoming week. Boring, boring, booooooring. Nothing, absolutely nothing. I would have to bother Greg for more cold cases to go through while the girls are at school and John is at work. I don't like to be alone.

I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair I was in and typed in a number on my phone and pressed the green circle.

"Hello?"

"Yes, this is Sherlock Holmes, is everything ready for tonight?"

"Of course, sir. It will be brought at exactly 8 pm."

"Good. Thank you, that will be all. Goodbye."

I hung up the phone and settled back to wait for John.

* * *

The ballroom was incredible. All of the decorations were gold and white, even the walls were white with a gold pattern on them, specially installed by Mycroft's people for this party. We chose these colors to let the people inside be the color, the life of this birthday party. Fairy lights were strung to the center of the ceiling and hung down, along with gold and white fabric. The seats were gold with white fabric seats and the tables were covered in gold or white tablecloths with small centerpieces of light pink roses, to match the roses in the girls' hair. A candy bar with any type of candy you could imagine sat in the corner of the room, along with popcorn, candy floss, and other treats. Sherlock and I decided to have a cupcake cake to make it easier for the children to eat the cake. The cupcakes were topped with black, dark blue and purple icing, swirled to look like galaxies. Each was topped with a constellation or an outline of the Moon or Sun. A large, glittery gold 6 and ½ sat at the top of the cupcake tower.

We had a face painter, balloon artist, and other arts and crafts for the kids to do during the party. Music would be playing throughout the party and the dance floor was open for anyone to dance. We had games planned for the children throughout the night. Everything was set and it was almost time for the party to start. Mycroft stood with the chef, discussing the food for the evening. I pointed at the door, letting him know I was going to get Sherlock and the girls.

I walked out into the lobby and saw that some guests had already started to filter in. Each child was provided with a suit or dress and their hair and makeup were done at Mycroft's expense. I learned not to object when Mycroft gave extravagant gifts to me or the girls. It was the only way he knew how to express his love, and by God did he love our little girls.

River was already awake when I walked in the room and was bouncing around Sherlock, asking him when they could leave, again and again. Indie still lay on the couch where Sherlock had laid her down.

"I tried to get her up, but she said she was too sleepy." Sherlock said, standing up from the chair.

I sighed, "Well, she has to get up now, it's almost time for us to go in."

River, meanwhile, had gone over to Indie and shook her awake, whispering to her about the party and about all the fun they were going to have with their friends. She sat up groggily, but became more awake as River talked and talked about the party they were about to walk into. I picked Indie up and kissed her on her forehead, checking for a fever. Satisfied that she didn't have one, I spun her around and set her down, picking River up in the same motion and kissed her forehead too.

"Come on girls, it's time to go to your birthday party!" We walked to the large doors into the ballroom and waited for the commotion inside to settle down and the DJ to announce our entrance. We went in as a family, Indie on my arm, River on Sherlock's. Cheers rose from the tables filled with the girls' classmates and their parents and our friends. I looked down at Indie.

If I had a camera with me, I would have taken a picture right then and there. Her smile was almost bigger than her face, her eyes shining with excitement, and her cheeks with a slight blush from all the attention. I hoped that the photographer, or someone, had captured that look on her face that I would sell the world for to see over and over again.

We made our way to the front of the room and a slow violin melody I didn't quite recognize began to float through the speakers. It was familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. I looked questioningly at Sherlock and he whispered, "It's all of your songs I composed, yours, River's, and Indigo's, all blended together, to make the melody of my heart, the soundtrack to my life. It was what I thought would be best for our father-daughter dances."

I blinked back tears as he gently kissed my forehead. He pulled away from me and set Indie on his feet and began to dance. I did the same with River. Halfway through the song we switched. I set Indie on my feet and her arms wrapped around my waist as I brushed flyaway strands of hair from her face.

"I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, Sunshine."

* * *

We sat down to dinner and ate our fill of all the great food that the chef had prepared specially for each of us. I had requested a salmon dish, while Sherlock had fish and chips. River requested Chinese food and Indie wanted a ham and cheese sandwich and smiley fries.

After dinner had been eaten, the kids were let loose to do whatever their little hearts desired. Balloon swords were fought with, kids were transformed into Spidermen and dragons, fairies and princesses, and coloring pages and stickers were left on tables. Lips and tongues were dark from the icing on the cakes and little fingers were sticky from the candy floss and other sweets we had set out. It was a mad, chaotic, glorious party. My face was painted with tiger stripes by the end of the night and Sherlock had even let River and Indie draw a heart on each of his cheeks. Greg opted for a dragon face, Molly had flowers painted on hers, and Mrs. Hudson was painted like Spiderman. Mycroft's face was paint-free, but his one hand had the same hearts that Sherlock had on his face.

And all too soon, it was 8 o'clock.

All four of us walked to the front of the room and I took a microphone from the DJ.

"Thank you all for coming to celebrate River and Indigo's 6 and a half birthday. These girls are our world and Sherlock and I want to take every opportunity to celebrate them. It means so much to all of us that you came here tonight. Being their father has been the greatest privilege, the greatest honor, I have ever known. Thank you all again, from all of our hearts."

Our guests applauded, Greg throwing in a few whistles. I turned to give the microphone back when Sherlock's voice echoed throughout the room.

"Ah John, this isn't quite the end of this party. If everyone could please direct their attention to the front doors, we have a final surprise for you, River and Indigo."

I braced myself for whatever ridiculous object was about to come through the doors.

The doors were thrown open and a little fawn pug ran into the room, barking madly, charging towards us.

River and Indigo screamed and threw themselves onto the floor, where the puppy enthusiastically jumped and licked their faces.

"A puppy! A puppy!" River shouted.

"Is he really ours, Daddy?" Indigo questioned, her eyes round and large.

"All yours, my darlings."

I looked at John. His face was a mix of shock and joy, with a hint of sadness. You see, John had a little pug of his own when he was a boy, a small detail I had filed in my mind palace. When I got the idea for a dog, I chose this pug, for the girls, yes, but especially for John.

"I can't believe you remembered, Sherlock." He said.

"He was part of you, John, how could I forget?"

* * *

A pug, a bloody little pug, was sitting in our flat. The girls had finally been put to bed, Sherlock was tinkering with some experiment in his study, and the little dog was sitting in front of me, his head cocked to the side.

"Well, little Jack, where are we going to have you sleep tonight?"

He responded with a sneeze.

"Perfect, our bed it is. At least until those little pug legs of yours can make it up the stairs to the girls' room, hm?"

He stood up, his tail wagging furiously. I had just scooped him into my arms, when a small voice from the doorway startled me.

"Papa?"

"Indie, love, what's wrong? Why aren't you asleep?" I set the dog back onto the floor and he barked back in protest.

She shuffled over to me and curled up in my arms.

"I was just thinking, Papa, about something you and Daddy told me and River a long time ago."

"What's that, darling?"

"Remember when we were really little, we wanted a doggy so bad? We asked every day. But you and Daddy said we could get one when we were 7. But we got our puppy today and we aren't 7 yet."

She sighed and snuggled closer to me. I was shocked when she looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

"Papa? Am I ever going to be 7?"


	11. Where Angels Go

"I don't know, love."

That was all I could say to her.

I wrapped her tightly in my arms.

And she cried.

* * *

Sherlock had come into the room as soon as he heard sobbing, his face lit up in a panic, his movements quick and uncoordinated. He dashed over to us and Indie's head popped off of my chest.

"Daddy? I think I have to go to heaven and be an angel."

He glanced at me, his eyes wide and darting about, his mind racing.

He took a tissue from the table and wiped tears from Indie's face, sitting down on the arm of the chair.

"Why do you think that, my beautiful Sunshine?"

"Because Katie's Dad had leukemia and she told me he went to heaven, that's where angels go right? I have leukemia too, but I don't want to go, Daddy. Papa, I don't want to go."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming, blinking rapidly to keep the tears back. I cupped the side of her face, brushing away stray tears that fell. I opened my mouth to speak when I was startled by a small voice in the doorway.

"Papa, Daddy, you have to make Indie all better."

River stood just inside the front room, her hand rubbing away tears falling down her cheeks.

"Come here, River." Sherlock held his arms open for the little girl as she climbed up onto his lap.

"Papa, you'll make me all better before I have to go to heaven, won't you?"

"Oh my darling, Daddy and I have tried so hard to find something to make it all go away, but we couldn't, sweetheart...I'm so sorry, Indie."

The girls began wailing as soon as I finished speaking and I felt my heart being torn into pieces.

Sherlock began to rock River back and forth, mouthing 'sorry' over and over again. I ran my hand over Indie's hair over and over again and brought her as close to me as I could. We let them cry, let them scream.

I would rather be shot a thousand more times than hear my daughters ever scream again.

* * *

"Daddy, Papa, will it hurt to go to heaven?" Indie finally hiccuped out as she calmed down enough to speak.

"No, it won't, sweetheart, Papa and I promise you that. We promise." Sherlock solemnly said.

River shifted in Sherlock's arms, sitting up and facing Indie and me.

"I want to go to heaven too, if Indie's going."

Indie reached over and grabbed River's hand. "No! River, you have to stay here to be with Papa and Daddy. We can't leave them here all by themselves."

"Will you visit me, Indie?"

"Every day"

After a time, the girls fell asleep in our arms and we took them upstairs, laying them in their beds and kissing them on their foreheads.

I was so tired. All I could do was brush my teeth and roll into bed, my face down in the pillow. A few tears leaked out, soaking the pillowcase beneath me. Jack snored in his bed on the floor. I felt the bed sink down next to me and thin fingers stroked my hair.

I picked my head up to look at Sherlock, his eyes were rimmed with red, and his lip was bleeding from his chewing. I sat up fully and he gave me a weak smile, turning to stare at the wall in front of us.

"She's going to visit every day, John."

With that, we both collapsed into each other arms and curled into each other on the bed, my cries muffled into Sherlock's chest and his tears dripping silently onto my hair.

And that's how we remained until morning.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, we started the girls with a therapist who specialized in these types of things. I knew that neither I or Sherlock could help River and Indie get through this without someone else's help. They liked her, called her Miss Laura. Some of the appointments were with Sherlock and I and some were just the girls. Laura told us that at this age, the girls were just barely able to grasp that death was so permanent. We would all have to help River get to a point of acceptance after Indie left us and it would probably take weeks, or even months.

Along with the therapy appointments, Indie was going to more and more doctor's visits, getting her medications adjusted to make her as comfortable as we could as she became weaker and weaker. She was missing school much more often and sleeping longer.

"Papa? Daddy? Can I stay home after we are done Christmas break, I'm too tired to go to school anymore, but I want to finish this quarter so I can get my report card." Indie asked Sherlock and I as we were getting her ready for bed one night.

"Yes, darling, you can stay home. If that's what you need, you can stay home." Sherlock told her, brushing her wet hair back.

We were going off of her cues, she knew when she was ready to stop school, when she was too tired to go out with Aunt Molly and Mrs. Hudson, when her legs hurt too much to walk down stairs and one of us had to carry her.

But even as her body betrayed her, she kept her heart and her smile exactly where it was, she was our little Sunshine.

And just like that it was Christmas Eve. The flat had been draped with garland and tinsel and lights in every possible nook and cranny. A small tree sat in the corner of the room, with most of the ornaments ending just at the height of two little girls. Smells of hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies came up from where the girls were baking with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock and I sat in our chairs, typing away on our respective laptops.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and groaned when I saw the number of the clinic on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hello, John, so sorry to be asking this today, but could you come in for a few hours? The main doctor has the flu and we are terribly swamped. It would just be until 7 this evening."

I rubbed my eyes with my hands, this was not what I wanted to be doing on this Christmas Eve, not at all.

"Go ahead, John, it's only until 7, plenty of time before the girls will go to sleep. Your patients need you. The girls and I will manage for a few hours." Sherlock said, shutting his laptop and walking over to me. He kissed me gently on the forehead.

"Go, John."

I clasped onto the hand resting gently on my shoulder, squeezing it gently, until it slipped away and I heard a quick pounding of feet down the stairs.

"Yeah, alright, Vicky, I'll be right over."

* * *

John popped into Mrs. Hudson's flat to say goodbye before heading to the clinic.

"Bye-bye, Papa!" River yelled from her station at the counter where she was squashing a mitten shaped cookie cutter into dough.

Indigo, meanwhile, walked over to John, my hand twitching with every limping step she took.

"Come home to read us _The Night Before Christmas_ , Papa, promise?" She asked him as he picked her up.

"I promise, Sunshine."

He kissed her and put her on my lap, the corner of my mouth upturning when I noticed the smudge of flour on his cheek from Indigo's flour covered hands. He gave me a quick kiss and went to River, kissing her as well. Mrs. Hudson hurried into the kitchen and shoved a plate of cookies into John's hands.

"Give your co-workers and all those poor sick people some of these, that'll cheer them right up!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Happy Christmas Eve to you." John said, kissing her cheek. He left the flat, a chorus of "bye, Papa!" following him out the door.

We stayed with Mrs. Hudson for dinner. She made some sort of stew, it smelled nice, at least. Wasn't hungry though. The latest case Lestrade had called me with turned over and over in my mind. It couldn't have been the husband, could it? No, too dull, too predictable.

A bowl was placed in front of me and I pushed it away. I looked up in surprise as it was pushed back at me, quite forcefully, by a very stern looking Indigo.

"Papa says you have to eat. You have to listen to Papa. He knows everything about you."

Well, if she isn't John's child.

"Yes, he does, Indigo Rose, yes he does." I said, as I put the spoon to my lips. Her face lit up into a smile and she nodded her head, settling back down to her own dinner.

We ate with happy conversation, River finishing her stew, Indie left about half. I had managed to get my bowl down to Jack, who dutifully sat at my feet during every meal. I did give him more food from the table than even the girls, and certainly more than John, who playful shook his head at the little dog when Jack began to beg.

Mrs. Hudson cleared our dishes and gave a plate of cookies for 'Father Christmas' to River. I would enjoy eating them later. I do love Mrs. Hudson's ginger nuts.

I picked Indigo up and we went up to our flat. River set the plate of cookies down in the kitchen and I sat down in my chair, Indigo still in my arms.

"Let's do something fun, Daddy!" River shouted as she flew into my arms, sitting herself down next to her sister.

I caught sight of the blanket draped across the back of John's chair and my mind flashed back to a time when Mycroft had built me a blanket fort when I was ill and still rather small. We spent hours in the fort, reading and playing with shadows on the side of the blankets.

"I know girls, let's build a blanket fort. Uncle Mycroft and I did it when I was a little boy." They nodded excitedly and we set to work.

A half-hour had passed and the blankets lay in disarray on the floor.

"Daddy, I don't think that worked." River said, her hand picking up a corner of a blanket. Jack took the opportunity to roll through the blankets, messing them up even further.

I ran my hands through my hair and shook it. Blasted blankets.

"Uncle Mycroft! Daddy needs help."

I looked over to see Indigo sitting in John's chair, my phone held to her ear.

She was always the best when it came to pickpocketing.

* * *

"There, it's stable now."

Mycroft had, of course, come right away. Any chance to show me up.

"Thank you Uncle Mycroft! Stay and play with us!" River said, hanging onto Mycroft's arm.

"I have to go back to work now, darling, but I will see you tomorrow morning and then for Christmas dinner. You're still coming, aren't you, River Grace?" He mockingly admonished.

"Of course, Uncle Mycroft! Me and Indie and Papa and Daddy are all coming! I promise!"

"It will be the best Christmas then." He patted the girls on the head and they sang their goodbyes.

"Goodnight, little brother."

With that, he was gone.

"Let's get your favorite books then, girls!" I said, scooping them both into my arms and running upstairs, their laughter echoing off the walls.

We picked a fine selection of books to read and settled down on the floor of pillows and extra blankets. A little lantern provided light for us in the fort, the soft orange glow of the fireplace peeking in through the opening. The girls sat in my lap with my arms wrapped around them.

"Read this one for us, Daddy." Indigo said as she handed me a book.

I took it and held it in front of the girls. _Love You Forever_ was emblazoned across the top of the book. We hadn't read this one since the girls were very small. Again my mind flashed back and I was sitting in a rocking chair, golden wisps of curls sat against my chest and tiny hands reached for the pages.

_A Daddy held his little girls and rocked them back and forth saying,_

_'I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.'_

Sherlock's voice continued through the story, as deep and as strong as ever. But if you looked, very closely, you'd see the drying trail of water down the right side of his face, from the only tear he had and would ever allow in front of his daughters.

* * *

I came home and saw the fort of blankets, three curly haired shadows moving inside. Jack leapt onto my leg, barking excitedly.

I kneeled down and knocked gently on the front of the fort.

"Can I come in, loves?"

"Papa!" River hurried out of Sherlock's arms and into mine as I settled myself inside the, quite frankly, roomy fort. Jack joined us, curling up on a pillow.

"Well who built this fine fort?" I asked.

"Daddy tried, he tried really hard, but it kept falling down, so I called Uncle Mycroft and he and Daddy built it!" Indigo said, still leafing through a book in Sherlock's arms.

"Ah, is that so, Daddy?" I teasingly asked.

"Yes, John, we had a lovely time." He said, rolling his eyes.

"Now we can read _The Night Before Christmas_! Papa, you start." River said, pushing the book into my hands. I smiled and scooted closer to Sherlock. He held the other end of the book as I opened it. The girls quickly flipped to the front page and I began,

_'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…_

The shadows of the two men and their little girls moved with each word and laugh, their voices and laughter filling 221B with a joy that its walls would rarely see again.


	12. Happy Christmas, Indigo Rose

Christmas never mattered to me much, even as a child. I had figured out that Father Christmas was a fake entity by the age of 3 so there was never any 'magic' in the day for me. I let my mother dress me in my suit and I opened my presents with some enthusiasm, after all, a new chemistry set was worth feigning interest in a large man in a red suit. John came into my life and suddenly 221B was filled to the brim with tinsel and lights when December came around. I donned reindeer socks and tolerated Christmas parties in my flat, for John. I had no idea at the time why I did so much for this little soldier as the idea of loving him had not yet occurred to me. After we married, I contributed a bit more to the festivities, helping to decorate, letting John put a Santa hat on my head, and even standing behind John at the shops as he picked out presents for our friends. It was tedious work and I would, of course, interject when I knew the person he had selected the gift for would absolutely hate it. I think John appreciated it, even though he usually ended the trip muttering expletives with a face as red as those silly hats.

No, I didn't see this so called 'magic' of Christmas until I saw River and Indigo open their first presents on Christmas morning and they shrieked with joy, toddling around the room, showing all of us their presents. I was entranced by them and suddenly, Christmas was my favorite time of the year.

I stacked the girls' presents according to category and size, as I do every year. John's presents sat to the left of them. John was sitting in his chair, snacking on the cookies and milk we had left out. He better have left the ginger nuts for me.

"Don't forget to save the ginger nuts, John!" I said, turning to him and catching him mid-bite of a damn ginger nut.

"It's just one, love, there's about 5 more here for you."

I jumped up and grabbed the plate from him, sitting in my chair and finishing the rest.

"Okay Sherlock, you know the drill, go into the study and don't you dare come out here while I'm getting your presents ready."

After the first few Christmases where I would simply guess the present the night before based on shape, weight, and the noise the box made when I shook it, coupled with what I knew I had mentioned to John or what John thought I wanted for Christmas, John had decided that I couldn't even so much as look at a present before Christmas morning. To his credit, I have still not found where he hides them.

"Alright, John, I will be in my study, make sure you put the suit jacket near the bottom of the pile, I want to open it near the end.

I could hear the smack of a ball of paper as I went down the hall into the study, closely followed by a quiet shout of "You utter cock!"

I smiled to myself and shut the door quietly behind me.

* * *

"I hope Papa and Daddy get up soon, I can see all the presents Father Christmas left for us!"

"Maybe he left us bikes, Indie!"

"There aren't any bicycle shaped presents through, River."

I laid in bed, listening to the girls discuss their presents in the hallway. Sherlock stirred next to me, groaning into his pillow.

"What time is it, John, it gets earlier and earlier every year."

"Half past six, love, best we get up before they decide to tear into the presents themselves."

He groaned again, reaching his arm up to flip on the light next to him. I rolled over and draped my arm over him, kissing his ear gently.

"Happy Christmas, Sherlock."

* * *

Jack lay in the middle of the floor, chewing on a stuffed red bone that the girls had gotten him for Christmas, surrounded by a sea of red and green paper and opened boxes. River was sitting on the couch with Greg and Mycroft, telling them how to take care of the egg sitting on her lap so that the little toy bird inside would hatch. Indie sat by the fireplace with Sherlock and Molly, who were helping her pick outfits to dress her new dolls. The girls were dressed in matching long-sleeved red plaid nightgowns and fuzzy red socks. I fiddled with three packages in my hand, wrapped in green paper with a red bow on top. I hadn't put these under the tree, I wanted them to stand alone.

I cleared my throat to get everyone's attention.

"Happy Christmas to everyone again, I hope you all are enjoying the lovely presents you got this morning. I just have a few more presents to give."

I walked over to Sherlock and each of the girls, handing them their presents with a hug and a kiss.

"I hope you like them, my loves."

They tore open the paper and pulled out the present from the box.

"It's a heart necklace, Papa. Put it on me, Uncle Mycroft." River said.

"Look inside, love."

The lockets were silver with delicate engravings of flowers on the front. Inside I had put a picture of us from the photos we took before the girls' birthday party. Sherlock and I stood behind the girls, looking quite dapper and happy. River had decided it was a silly photo and stood with her hands on her hips, bending forward and sticking her tongue out. Indigo smiled brightly next to her sister, her hands clasped in front of her. On the other side of the locket, I had engraved 'We love you forever.'

For Sherlock, I had gotten a silver watch. The face of the watch popped open to reveal the same picture of us and on the underside I had engraved, 'For the best and wisest man I have ever known.'

"Ah, thank you, John, this is, uh, this is very lovely." Sherlock stammered out. He replaced the watch he was wearing with my gift.

The girls ran up to me and I caught them in a hug, lifting them up.

"Thank you, Papa!" Indie shouted before giving me a kiss on the cheek. I set them down and they ran to show off their lockets.

"Look at this Uncle Greg, there's a picture of me, River, Papa, and Daddy! They'll be with me all the time."

"It's beautiful, sweetheart, your Papa did a great job picking that out for you and your sister." He said, snuggling Indie closer to him.

River, meanwhile, was bouncing next to Mrs. Hudson and Molly, the locket swinging in her hand with each bounce.

"Sit still, River, you'll tangle the chain bouncing the locket like that." Mrs. Hudson said, taking the locket from her. "It's beautiful, River, should I put it on for you?"

I sat in my chair, scrolling through the pictures I had taken. Indie snuggled with her Uncle Greg, River smiling with her arms around her Nana Hudson and Aunt Molly. River carrying Jack with a Santa hat on his head, Indie tearing open a present with Sherlock grinning widely beside her, River sitting on Mycroft's lap, a large red bow sitting on top of his head. Mrs. Hudson had taken one of Indie kissing me on the nose and one of the four of us by the fireplace, all in our pajamas.

There were at least a hundred, a hundred pictures of this happy Christmas.

* * *

We would be having Christmas dinner at the Holmes estate, as we did each year. The estate was once home to Sherlock's parents. They left us soon after the girls had turned 2. Mr. Holmes was found by a maid one morning, lying peacefully in his bed. Mrs. Holmes was found in the same manner a few months later. They were entirely devoted to each other and as Mycroft put it, 'one couldn't live without the other.' Sherlock had taken the news of his father's death fairly well and we went to live with his mother for a week to keep her company. She visited often, but was still lonely I suppose. When Sherlock heard of his mother's death, he had run out into the night. I found him sitting on a park bench smoking a cigarette.

"She was the only one who believed in me and the only person I truly loved, before you came along of course. I was her Sherlock and she was my Mummy." He said to me as I approached.

I sat down next to him and he laid his head on my shoulder and we sat quietly, watching our breath in the winter air.

* * *

"I don't know why we have to go to the estate every Christmas, we could have a fine dinner here, John." Sherlock said.

I adjusted a sleeping Indie in my arms and said, "There's enough room there for all of us, we can hardly ask Mrs. Hudson to cook a Christmas dinner for 8, and there's grounds for the girls to play on at the estate. We can't keep them cooped up in this flat on a day where all they want to do is run around and play."

Sherlock grumbled and settled himself into his seat, crossing his arms.

"Daddy, be happy, it's Christmas!" River scolded, pulling at his arms.

"Yes, darling, Daddy's very happy, just promise me you'll misplace Uncle Mycroft's wallet for me today."

"Okay, Daddy!"

"No, River, do not take Uncle Mycroft's wallet!" I interjected shaking my head at Sherlock.

"Okay, Papa!"

"She won't take it John, just misplace it."

"Sherlock."

"Fine, John. River, don't misplace the wallet, just misplace the money inside."

"Sherlock!"

* * *

We were all gathered in the sitting room, drinking tea after our meal, when Mycroft strode into the room.

"Uncle Mycroft! Where were you?" Indie yelled from her spot on the floor where she sat with her sister and Jack.

"Bit of important business to attend to, darling, so sorry to have missed tea. I think I have something for you and River to make up for it though." He said, motioning for them to come with him.

They scrambled off the floor and went to Mycroft. We followed them, wanting to see what he had gotten them for Christmas.

Outside the front doors sat two bicycles, one pink and the other a light purple. They had training wheels, a basket, a bell, streamers from the handles. They were adorable little bikes.

"There, now you can ride all around these grounds like your father and I did when we were little boys."

"Papa, Daddy! Can we go ride them now? Can we, please?" River and Indie shouted, pulling on our arms.

"Yes you may, I brought your trainers with me, but I forgot a change of clothes, so please try not to get those pretty dresses dirty." I said.

We had the girls in matching dresses, as we usually did on Christmas. They were white satin with a silver embroidery and a red ribbon tied 'round the middle with a big bow in the back. A red bow sat on the left side of the girls' hair. They also had insisted that Jack have an outfit for Christmas, so I found a collar with a red bow tie on the front. The girls loved it, even Sherlock gave his half smile that I loved so much after he saw our little pug.

"We won't, Papa!" Indie said, pulling on her trainers and jacket.

"Yes, Papa, we'll be extra careful!" River said, running out the door.

"Hold on, loves, let Papa take a picture!" I shouted, running after them.

I caught them as they were ready to set off, helmets on, feet on the pedals, with wide smiles on their faces.

It was then that I realized that they didn't actually know how to ride a bike.

"Don't worry, John, I gave them an approximately fifteen-minute lesson on bike riding last week."

"Sherlock, fifteen minutes isn't enough to…"

The sound of wheels rolling interrupted me and I saw the girls flying down the path into the front yard.

"Remember to brake like Daddy taught you!" Sherlock shouted, waving his hand.

"Fifteen minutes was a bit of overkill really, John. Remember, they are our little girls. The most astute brains and biggest hearts in all of England."

* * *

"And then the guy says to me, Greg, why'd you sign your name as 'Gavin'? Bloody Sherlock Holmes has me forgetting my own bloody name."

The room filled with laughter, Sherlock looking a bit embarrassed behind his cup of tea.

The festive mood was shattered by an ear-piercing shriek and a cry of "Daddy, Papa!" from the front yard. Sherlock and I immediately jumped up and ran out the front door, everyone else following close behind. The bikes were tipped over in the yard. River was kneeling next to Indigo, who was sitting on the snow-covered ground, red spread all around her. I thought her ribbon had come undone and sat next to her, until I realized it was blood.

Blood poured from Indigo's nose, her little hand trying desperately to stop it. Her face was whiter than the snow she sat on and tears streamed down her face. Sherlock quickly knelt down and held his handkerchief to her nose. River was crying next to her, Greg picked her up and brushed the snow off her.

"River, love, what happened?" I said to her as calmly as I could.

"We were riding and she stopped and I turned around and there was blood everywhere! She didn't fall or anything, she just was bleeding! Is she going to go to heaven now, Papa, I don't want her to go right now!"

She threw herself onto Greg's shoulder and sobbed.

"No, River, it's just a nosebleed, it's alright, shh, it's alright, sweetheart." Greg said, rubbing circles on her back and rocking her back and forth, trying to calm her.

"Uncle Greg's right, lovebug, it's just a nosebleed." I said, turning back to Indie.

"Sherlock, pick her up, keep her head bent forward, I'll put pressure on her nose. Let's get them inside and warmed up, they're soaking wet now."

Sherlock did as I said, blood spilling onto his shirt. Indie began to cough and spit out more blood, the gurgling sound she was making stopped and she seemed to calm down just a little bit.

"Indie, sweetheart, it's alright, it'll stop soon. I know it's scary, but I promise it'll be okay, just keep your head bent forward." I said to her.

She nodded her head and we made our way back inside. Mycroft had already procured new outfits for the girls. Sherlock got River cleaned up and out of her dress and into the jumper and jeans Mycroft had gotten. She had calmed down a bit and was sitting wide eyed in Molly's lap.

After ten minutes, the bleeding had stopped and we wiped the rest of the blood off of Indie's pale face and hands, changing her out of her dress.

"I'm okay now, Papa?" She asked me cautiously, laying back in my arms.

"You're alright, Sunshine, just a bit of a nosebleed. Lots of little girls get them."

She nodded, a bit of a smile lighting up her face.

"I know, why don't we play a bit of charades! River, come here with me and I'll tell you what we're going to act out." Mrs. Hudson said with a clap of her hands.

Soon, we were all laughing at River's impression of Sherlock and the whole nosebleed incident was nearly forgotten. We played games until the girls began yawning widely.

"I think it's time to be off, girls, tell everyone Happy Christmas." I said, grabbing their freshly washed coats to shrug onto them.

"Happy Christmas, everyone!" River shouted, but Indie stayed silent, a pondering look on her face.

She stepped in front of me and turned towards all of us, pondering replaced with determination.

"Thank you for giving me the best last Christmas. I love you."

Sherlock was the first to scoop Indie up in his arms. She opened her arms to us, and we went to her. Nothing could be heard except the quiet sobs and the silent screams of a family's heart breaking.

* * *

Happy Christmas, Indigo Rose. We love you too.


	13. At the Water's Edge

"But I don't want to go to school, Papa!" River shouted, stomping her bare foot on the floor. Her face was twisted into a pout that very resembled Sherlock's when he also didn't get his way.

"You have to go to school, love, the holidays are over now. I know your friends are very excited to see you again!" I said, shrugging her navy blue school jumper over her head.

"I don't care about them, I want to be with Indie!" she yelled. With that, she threw herself onto the floor and began kicking about in a tantrum.

"Come on, lovebug, get up for Papa, please, we have to eat breakfast still, and we don't want to be late." I said, kneeling next to her.

She continued to kick and cry, slamming her fists onto the carpet.

"River Grace… _oof _!"__

My head jerked backwards and I put a hand to my now bleeding lip where River had kicked me. She immediately stopped crying and stared at me, her blue eyes wide. She flung herself at me, sobbing.

"Papa! I'm sorry, Papa!" She said, burying her head into my chest.

Sherlock came running into the room at that moment, stopping when he saw us huddled on the floor.

"John, what's going on?"

He waited for me to explain, although I could see understanding quickly flash across his face. Sherlock didn't voice his deductions when it came to the girls, he told me once that letting them come to him with their thoughts and fears, their hopes and dreams, was like reading a new book each day, like opening a treasure chest with mountains of gold spilling out. He loved talking to them. He loved talking about them.

Before I could speak, River turned towards Sherlock and cried, "I hurt Papa! I was being bad and I kicked him and I'm sorry!" She turned back to me and continued crying into my t-shirt. I ran my hand down her raven hair, trying to comfort her. Sherlock looked down at us, a hint of amusement on his face.

"It was an accident, River, I know you didn't mean to kick me. But now you know you should listen to Papa, right lovebug?"

She nodded against my chest, her sobs now only sniffles.

"There's my good girl, now go with Daddy, he can get you breakfast. I'll be there in a second after I check on your sister."

She got up and walked over to Sherlock, who picked her up and absolutely flew with her into the kitchen, high-pitched laughter ringing out.

I stood up and touched my lip. It was a bit swollen and stung, but it had already stopped bleeding. Ascending the stairs quietly, I stepped into the girls' room and went over to Indie, who was still sleeping, tucked beneath her rose covered blankets.

My smile quickly faded when I saw how flushed she was. I set my hand on her forehead, causing her glassy eyes to peek up at me. She was on fire. I threw the covers off her and she curled into a ball, shivering.

"I'm so sorry, love, can you tell me what hurts, sweetheart?" I asked her, taking her wrist in my hand to feel her pulse. It was fast, but strong and steady.

She licked her parched lips and weakly pointed to her throat. I quickly grabbed a small light I kept on the bedside table.

"Open your mouth as wide as you can for me, love, Papa's just going to look at your throat."

Indigo's throat was fire-engine red, with white patches covering her tonsils. Classic strep throat. I sighed to myself with just a tiny bit of relief. Strep throat was easily fixed, a course of antibiotics and she'd be as right as rain. The more pressing matter now was her fever. I picked her up and took her downstairs to the bathroom. River and Sherlock were sitting in the kitchen, River eating cereal while Sherlock flipped through his latest case file.

"Sherlock, can you come here, please?" I called out to him, while running a lukewarm bath for Indie.

He appeared in the doorway, his eyes widening at the sight of Indigo. He came in, shutting the door behind him, leaving just a crack so we could hear into the kitchen.

"John, why does she have a fever?" He said, panic on his face.

"She has strep throat, she'll be alright once we get her temperature down and some fluids and antibiotics into her. Help me get her undressed."

We set her in the bath, Indie letting out a wail as we set her what must've felt like ice water.

"I know, I know, sweetheart, but we have to get your temperature down, Papa and Daddy are here, it's alright."

Sherlock wet a flannel in the bath and placed it on her forehead, rubbing his thumb across it gently.

"You're such a brave and strong girl, Indigo Rose. Papa will make you better soon, Sunshine."

I gave his hand a quick squeeze, his worried eyes locking onto mine.

"What should I do now, John? Her temperature seems to be regulated."

"Go get her a change of clothes, some water, ibuprofen, and the Amoxicillin I have in the fridge, Sherlock."

He nodded and set off, his blue dressing gown flowing behind him. I could hear River questioning him as he went through the kitchen. He reassured her that everything was just fine and she went back to her cereal, spoon scraping against the bottom of the bowl.

I lifted Indie out of the bath and wrapped her in her fluffy pink towel.

"There you are, Sunshine, Daddy'll be back soon with medicine to make your throat feel better."

Sherlock returned and set the pajamas he had brought with him on the floor. I handed Indie to him as he handed me the medicine.

"Get her dressed and I'll get this medicine measured." I said to him, pouring the ibuprofen into the measuring cup.

Soon, Indie was sitting on the couch in Sherlock's arms, wrapped in a blanket and dressed in her purple flower pajamas, sipping on water.

"Feel better, love?" I asked her, running my hands through her golden curls.

She nodded and gave me a small smile, her throat still too sore to speak very much.

River sat on the other side of the room in my chair, drawing on a piece of paper and swinging her legs. Jack lay beneath her, snoring.

"Let's go, River, time to get you to school!" I said cheerily, crossing the room and scooping her into my arms.

"I'm sorry I hurt your lip, Papa, I made you and Indie get better cards!"

She handed me the piece of paper she was holding. On it, she had drawn a big heart with the words 'Get better soon, Papa' at the top written with bright blue crayon in all capital letters.

"This is such a lovely card, lovebug, thank you." I said, kissing her forehead and setting her on the floor.

"You're welcome, Papa, can I give Indie hers now?" She said, pulling on her shoes.

"Yes, but don't get too close now, her sore throat is very contagious."

She nodded and ran over to Indie, giving her the card she had made. Indie smiled at her sister and thanked her quietly. River ran back over to me and I put her coat and pulled her hat over her head, careful not to mess the two braids I had put in her hair.

She waved to Sherlock and Indie, shouting goodbyes and get better soons at them, before taking my hand and pulling me towards the door.

* * *

"I'll be home in just a bit, then you can head down to the Yard, alright? Just make sure she keeps drinking and if her temperature goes up again, you can give her paracetamol."

"Yes, yes, John, I have taken care of our daughters when they were sick before. We'll have a wonderful time, won't we, Sunshine?"

She nodded her head and snuggled closer to me.

"Make sure Daddy behaves, Indie, I'm counting on you to make sure he doesn't get into any trouble." John said with a laugh.

Indigo let out a raspy laugh next to me and gave John a thumbs up. John smiled and blew a kiss towards us, shutting the door behind him.

I picked up the glass of water Indigo had been drinking from and brought it to her lips, but she immediately shook her head. She looked at me with big eyes and a frown on her face.

"Ah yes, water is quite dull, Sunshine. How about we get you a popsicle from the freezer, would you like that, darling?"

Her eyes immediately brightened and she nodded her head vigorously.

"What color?" I asked her, shifting her off my lap and onto the sofa.

She tugged at my dressing gown, pointing at the fabric.

"Blue it is then, Sunshine."

Grabbing blue popsicles for myself and Indigo, I sat back down next to her and handed her the sickeningly blue confection.

"Now Indigo, I have a very important question I need your help answering." She nodded at me, grinning widely as I continued, "I need to see which will be bluer after eating a whole blue popsicle, a big tongue or a little tongue. Ready, set, go!"

We sat for a few minutes eating our popsicles until we both were finished. I pulled out my phone and switched the camera towards us.

"Now, Indigo Rose, as a young scientist-in-training, you have the honors of judging which of us has the bluer tongue. Stick your tongue out at the camera on the count of three, ready?"

I counted to three and we both stuck out our tongues as I snapped a picture. Indigo grabbed my face and turned it towards her, her brows furrowed, inspecting my tongue intently, then grabbing my phone and staring at the photo.

She gave me a very serious look and said, "Daddy, I won, my tongue is most definitely bluer than yours."

I glanced at the picture I had taken, Indigo expectantly looking up at me.

"Yes, it appears you're right, Indigo Rose, your tongue is most certainly bluer. Well done!"

She smiled at me, obviously proud as a peacock. I ruffled her blonde curls and she leaned into my chest, wrapping her arms around my middle.

"Mrs. Hudson's coming." Indigo said, her voice muffled.

I heard the light footsteps a second before Mrs. Hudson popped in with her ever-present 'yoo-hoo.'

"I think I'm getting a bit slow, Indigo." I whispered to her. She giggled and waved to Mrs. Hudson.

"What's that, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson tutted, pouring tea into mugs.

"Nothing, Mrs. Hudson. Our Sunshine has a very bad sore throat this morning, can you put some lemon and honey into her tea?"

"Oh my poor dear, extra sugar for you," she said, hurrying into the kitchen to grab the honey, sugar, and lemon.

She came back quickly, handing us our mugs and sitting down in the chair at our desk, her mouth halfway open to talk about her upcoming trip with Mrs. Turner most likely, when her eyes widened with shock.

"Sherlock Holmes, why is your tongue blue?!"

Indigo and I both broke into a fit of laughter, her voice already sounding less painful and raspy as she launched into the story of this morning's experiment.

After Mrs. Hudson went back downstairs, I switched the telly onto one of the morning cartoons the girls inexplicably enjoyed. Indigo snuggled herself into my chest, her eyes drooping.

I wrapped her tightly in the blanket she had around her shoulders and laid down, pulling her onto my chest. I brushed the hair from her face, her eyelids fluttering briefly before quickly falling asleep.

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the idiotic songs being sung by the equally idiotic cartoon mouse. I brushed Indigo's tiny hand with my finger, the rhythm of her chest rising and falling lulling me into sleep.

* * *

I found Sherlock and Indigo asleep on the sofa, unfinished tea on the table beside them. I took a quick picture and walked over to Sherlock, shaking him gently.

"John?" He said, his eyes squinting.

"It's nearly 9:30, Lestrade will be expecting you, Sherlock." I said, gently picking up Indigo and settling her in my arms. She stirred against my shoulder.

"Papa? I won the blue tongue contest," she said, with a very tired voice.

"Did you now?" I looked at Sherlock, questioningly. He shrugged and strolled into the bedroom. "You'll have to tell me all about it when you're done with your nap." I told her, rocking her gently. Her breathing evened out as I rocked her and I laid her down on the sofa where Sherlock had been laying.

Sherlock, meanwhile, had appeared back into the room, fastening the button on his suit jacket. He was wearing a starched white shirt that stretched tightly over his torso and trousers that hugged him quite nicely. His slightly damp curls sat just right and his blue-green eyes shone from his pale face.

"That jacket I got looks good on you, love." I said, moving closer to him.

"It does fit quite well, John, well done." He said, with a smirk on his face.

I kissed him quickly, a blush sweeping across his pale cheeks.

"I love you, you crazy, wonderful man."

"As do I, John."

* * *

I fixed Sherlock's hair as we stepped out of the bedroom and straightened my own shirt.

"Lestrade is going to be wondering where you've gotten to." I said, checking Indie for any sign of the fever returning.

"Maybe the extra time has given him a chance to solve this dreadfully simple case." He said, kissing us goodbye, before sweeping out the door and down the stairs.

I shook my head after him, switching the telly to the news. An hour or so went by before Indie began to wake up.

"Good morning, Sunshine, did you have a good nap?" I asked her, smiling.

She nodded her head and climbed into my lap.

"Good morning, Papa, can we go to the park today? I want to look at my ducks."

Since the girls were very small, we took a trip every so often to a certain park where ducks lined the edge of their pond, looking for food. Indie was fascinated by them and loved feeding them and patting them on the head. Indie was the only one who they let pat their heads, snapping their beaks at anyone else who dared tried to do it.

"Only for a little bit, love, you should rest as much as you can today."

"Thank you, Papa! Can we go now, Papa?"

"Yes, but first we have to get you dressed and your teeth brushed."

She slid off my lap, wobbling a bit before I steadied her on her feet.

"Do you feel okay to walk to the bathroom, love?" I said, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

"Yes, Papa, just hold my hand, okay?" She said, grasping onto my hand.

I squeezed her hand and stood next to her.

"Don't worry, love, I've got you."

I tugged her hair into a ponytail, it was far too messy to even try to brush, and slipped a hat over her head and wrapped a scarf around her neck. She held her hands up to be held and I picked her up, carrying her down the stairs and outside.

The sun shined brightly on us, giving us a little bit of warmth against the chilly January day. I walked with Indie to the park, chatting away with my little girl. She told me all about Sherlock's contest with her this morning and told me that she was sure she was almost big enough to be a scientist just like him.

"Then you can teach me how to be a very good doctor, like you are, Papa."

"I'd be happy to, Sunshine." I said to her, smiling.

"There's the park, Papa!"

She squirmed against my arms and I set her down. I held her hand as we walked, slowly, to the patch of grass without snow where the ducks gathered, waiting for someone to throw a piece of bread or two.

I pulled the bag of birdseed and oats from my pocket and had Indie hold her hands out. I poured some of the birdseed into her hands and she set off towards the ducks, calling out 'Here, duckies, here!'

I walked behind her and knelt next to her, feeding some of the ducks that had gathered around her.

"That tickles, Mr. Duck!" She laughed as the ducks ate from her hands.

When the food was gone, she wiped her hands on her black leggings and got back to her feet.

"Can we go look at the water, Papa?"

"Of course, love."

I took her hand and we walked right to the water's edge, her black boots kicking up rocks as we went.

To her great amusement, the ducks followed her in a straight line, quacking away.

She squealed and began to march around with me. We danced in circles, the ducks following our every move, until she stopped and sat down on the cold rocks.

I gathered her into my arms. Her cheeks were pink with the cold and she was breathless, but her eyes were filled with joy and she had a silly grin on her face. I pulled her hat down over her eyes, her laughter ringing out. She pulled the hat back up and set her nose against mine.

"You're such a silly Papa."

"And you're my silly Sunshine."

She hugged me 'round my neck and we set back up the trail to head home.

"Bye-bye, duckies!" She sang, waving back.

The sounds of water lapping against the shore, children laughing, and the wind in the trees escorted us out of the park, saying goodbye to the little girl that would never again play in its soft grass, never again dance at the water's edge.


	14. Standing on the Rooftop

I had often heard families of terminally ill patients talk about 'the last good day,' a day where it seemed like their loved one wasn't sick at all. They would get up in the morning and walk on their own, leaving their cane behind, not needing to be carried down the stairs. They would eat a full breakfast and go on a long walk. They would laugh and joke, their face unmarred by grimaces of pain, their eyes unclouded by fatigue and medications. The day's chores and errands would be done and every dinner plate would be empty. They would stay up to be with their family or friends long past the time they would normally nod off to sleep and everyone would be filled with a sense of euphoria, a nostalgia of days that had long passed. They would go to sleep with smiles on their faces, the day disappearing just like any other, and they would wake up the next day just as they were two days before, not able to eat, not able to walk, the light slowly fading from their eyes. They and their family would trudge on, hoping for another 'good' day that would never come.

Indie's fever had waxed and waned, even though her sore throat was gone. She would be playing and smiling during the day and shaking with chills and burning fever by evening. She was exhausted, large bags growing under her eyes, her skin paper thin and pale, her limbs becoming weaker with every passing day.

Sherlock's birthday was fast approaching and although he insisted we completely ignore the whole affair, I always made sure to have a gift wrapped and a chocolate cake with chocolate icing sitting on the kitchen table by the end of the day. He would give me a smile and a kiss, giving the same to the girls after they came into our lives. The throwing of birthday parties and the like was strictly forbidden, 'a ridiculous waste of time,' as Sherlock bluntly put it when I had brought the subject up soon after we had started dating.

So, when Indie excitedly waved me over and suggested we throw a birthday party for Sherlock, I hesitated for just a second before looking into those shining hazel eyes and nodding my head. Her eyes became clouded again, but her beautiful smile remained, and I set about planning the birthday party I would have to throw in a few days' time.

* * *

The day before Sherlock's birthday dawned and I finished my last notes on what I needed to do for the party. It would be a small, intimate affair, with Mycroft, Molly, Greg, and Mrs. Hudson in attendance. Pizza and chocolate cake with chocolate icing would be served, along with ice cream and some other snacks. I sat at my desk, smiling to myself as I looked at the plans for what would be Sherlock's first birthday party since the age of 8 (according to Mycroft) and congratulated myself on planning such a lovely party in so little time.

A little head popped under my arm, wild curls obscuring the pad of paper I held in my hands.

"Good morning, Papa! You're up early!" River shouted, turning her head to look at my list.

"Daddy's going to have the best…!" She yelled excitedly before I quickly put my hand over her lips, shushing her.

Recognition flashed in her eyes and she held her own finger to her lips, I nodded at her and drew her into my lap, rubbing my nose against hers.

"Daddy's going have the best what, my darling?" the baritone voice rumbled from the kitchen.

I turned and saw Sherlock standing behind my chair, his arms behind his back and his eyebrow quirked, his eyes expectant for an answer from the small girl sitting in my lap.

Her eyes glanced at mine before she slid off my lap and ran to Sherlock, shouting, "the best day ever, Daddy!"

He laughed and picked her up, letting her chat happily to him as he bounced back with her into the kitchen to show her the most recent (kid-friendly) experiment he was working on.

I turned back to my list when I heard a soft voice through the baby monitor I had sitting next to me.

"Papa?" the voice whispered.

I took the monitor in my hand and answered back,

"Good morning, Sunshine, I'll be up in a second."

I placed the monitor back on the desk and went upstairs. I opened the door and was greeted with a smile and a weak wave from the little girl lying in her bed, legs tangled in her sheets.

I walked over to her and sat down beside her, placing my hand on her forehead.

"Still a little warm, love, let's get downstairs and get you your medicine, hm?"

She nodded her head and held her arms out to me. I stood and picked her up, cradling her against me. It took less of my strength to pick her up each day as my little girl seemed to fade away before my very eyes. It was absolutely heart breaking. I had never hated anyone or anything so strongly as I did those cancerous cells that were sapping the life out of my Sunshine.

But she continued to smile, through every painful step, through every headache, through the chills that left her soaked through with cold sweat. She laughed as much as she could and she made us laugh too, with her silly jokes and funny dances. Oh, how she loved to dance.

I gently carried her down the stairs and placed her on the sofa, wrapping her in the pink blanket I had tucked her and River in with at the hospital all those months ago. Jack jumped up and laid at her feet, his customary spot these days. River appeared in the kitchen doorway and ran to her sister, smothering her with hugs and kisses. Sherlock was a few steps behind, a smile plastered on his face for our little girl. He bent down and kissed her forehead, running his hand along her hair.

"How is my Indigo Rose feeling today?" He asked in the sweet tone he only used with our girls.

"My head hurts a little bit and Papa said I'm still warm, so can I have a popsicle today?" she said, smiling.

It was her new favorite thing to have a popsicle in the morning and any bit of fluids and sugar she wanted, we gave to her.

"Can I have one too, Daddy?" River asked, her eyes perking at the possibility of such a treat so early in the morning.

"Of course, River Grace, purple and blue for the two of you, then?"

They nodded and went back to playing with Jack, who was now laying on his back with his tongue lolling out, enjoying his morning belly rubs.

I followed Sherlock into the kitchen, fixing us cups of tea while he rummaged through the freezer.

"What shops are you planning on going to today, John?" Sherlock asked with his head in the freezer, his voice muffled.

"How do you know I'm going to the shops?"

"Your wallet is tucked into your back pocket, when it is usually sitting on the desk, and you keep glancing at your watch, you're on a schedule today, but you don't have work and we have nowhere to be with the girls. My birthday is tomorrow, thus, to the shops for a gift."

"Brilliant, as always, Sherlock," I said, kissing him on the cheek, "and yes to the shops. River and I'll be going to find you something for your birthday. I've already asked Mrs. Hudson to watch Indie for the afternoon since I know you were planning on going down to the Yard for a few hours."

He gave me a brief smile and nodded once, stepping quickly into the front room, brandishing popsicles for the two girls squealing on the sofa. I walked to my chair and sat down, drinking from my tea and flipping open today's paper. It was quiet then, with only the sounds of paper crinkling and fingers flying on a keyboard breaking the silence of the peaceful morning.

* * *

After breakfast had been eaten, I gave the girls a bath and got them dressed for the day, River in a purple jumper and leggings and Indie wearing a long sleeved dress covered with ice cream cones and gray leggings underneath. I left their long curls down, brushing them the few times the girls would allow me to before they tugged away and went off to play, River waiting for Indie as she slowly made her way into the front room.

"Do your legs hurt too much, Indie?" I asked, restraining myself from picking her up right then and there.

"No, Papa, if I go slow, they don't hurt at all." She replied cheerfully.

"I'll take care of her, Papa!" River announced with a shout.

"I know you will," I stood up on my feet and waved them into the hallway, "off you go then, loves."

They continued their slow journey, hand in hand, their small, wet footprints left side by side behind them.

* * *

Sherlock had already left by the time I had finished cleaning up the bathroom. He had set up a little painting area in the middle of the room for the girls, with newspaper spread beneath them and plastic cups of water next to them for their brushes.

"Papa, look I drew a picture of Jack!" River said, running at me, waving her paper in the air.

I took the paper from her and studied the brown and black blob she had created. Her blue eyes were large, expectantly waiting for me to critique her work.

"It's wonderful, lovebug!" I said, handing her back her artwork. She jumped and held the paper to her chest, dashing to the refrigerator to hang it up.

"What about you then, Sunshine?" I asked, sitting cross-legged next to her.

"I drew you and me and Daddy and River and Jack!"

Three people stood on a green rectangle of grass, with a little dog painted next to them. A small figure with yellow hair and a yellow circle over its head was flying over the rest of us.

I struggled to keep my hand from shaking as I handed it back to her, her hazel eyes giving me the same expectant look her sister had.

"It's lovely, but you're still here with us, Indie, still right here." I said, nearly choking on my words.

"I don't think for very long, Papa." she sighed, continuing to add paint to the paper in her hands.

This time I couldn't hold myself back. I gathered her into my arms and felt her warm arms wrap around my neck, I could smell the strawberry shampoo in her damp hair. I held onto her, watching the clock on the mantle, the time I had left to hold Indie slowly ticking away.

* * *

"There we go," I said, placing Indie's painting on the refrigerator next to River's, "two lovely paintings by the most beautiful artists in the whole world."

The girls giggled next to me as they looked up, admiring their handiwork.

"Alright, River, get your boots on, we're going to go get Daddy's present now. Indie, we'll take you down to Nana Hudson's when we leave, alright?"

The girls had, after an hour or two of internet searching and a bit of help from me, found the largest Rubik's cube that was being sold in stores and decided that they would get that for Sherlock. The cube was 10x10 with electronic squares that would change colors if the puzzle wasn't solved in 12 hours. I thought it perfect for Sherlock's ever searching mind, looking for the next puzzle, the next case.

The girls got ready and we set off, leaving Indie with Mrs. Hudson with a hug and a kiss. River and I walked down the street, her gloved hand in mine.

"Look, Papa, there's a bird! Two birds! I wonder if they're daddy birds, maybe they have two baby birds at home just like you and Daddy!"

I chuckled to myself. "I don't know, love, maybe they do, they look like a fine couple of birds."

"Do you think one of their babies is dying too?"

I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at her.

"I don't think so, River, babies don't usually die."

"Then why does Indie have to die?"

My stomach twisted into knots as I pulled her over to a nearby bench and sat down with her, our trip forgotten for a moment.

River Grace was a girl who needed to understand the world in a logical way, always questioning 'Why?'

'Why is the sky blue, Papa?' 'Why do I have ten fingers?' 'Why do you put the cereal in before the milk?' A litany of questions poured out of her every day, with no question repeated. And we always had a satisfactory reason.

But we had no reason for why her sister was dying. It was a cruel hand of fate, dealt at random to our beautiful little girl. There was no logic, there was no understanding. It just was.

"Sometimes…sometimes, these things just happen, love. No one did anything wrong, it's not anyone's fault. It just happened." I said, my voice faltering.

"It's not fair! Indie is my best friend! She can't die!" River cried out, angry tears beginning to stream down her face.

I pulled her towards me, but she kicked and screamed. Her therapist had talked to us about this moment, when she would realize fully that her sister was leaving her and that Sherlock and I, her protectors, her whole world, couldn't make it stop.

I let her cry, let her scream, let her kick and punch at me until she exhausted herself, ignoring the odd glances and stares people were giving us.

"But I love her so much, Papa," she softly said.

I laid my head on top of hers, tears dripping onto her hat.

"I do too, lovebug. We all love her so much, don't we? And she loves us so much. We're going to have such lovely times with her and all we have to do is remember our happy times when we get sad and although we'll still be sad, we'll be happy for at least a little bit. But you and Indie can always talk to Daddy or I or your Nana or your Aunt or your Uncles whenever you feel sad or mad, okay? Don't keep that inside you, love."

She nodded against my cheek and her hiccupping sobs seemed to slow down. We sat on the cold bench on the dull, gray street for what seemed like forever, until she picked her head up and brushed her hands across my cheeks, wiping away the tears that had long dried up.

"We should get Daddy's present now. We need to get back to Indie."

She jumped off the bench and tugged me along as we weaved through the people on the street. She spotted the candy shop and squealed, pressing her nose to the window, gazing at the sweets inside. I watched the weight of the world lift off her small shoulders, if only for just a little while.

* * *

It was peaceful in 221B that night. Indie didn't wake up at all, for the first time in a long time. I woke up the next morning, nearly panicking when I realized I had slept through the night. I was ready to dash upstairs when I heard deep laughter and high pitched giggling coming from the front room. I found Sherlock and Indie in there, Indie running around the room in a long sleeved maroon dress as Sherlock blew bubbles for her.

His face was beaming with a rare full blown smile as he watched Indie jump, clapping her hands together to pop bubbles. I quickly picked up my camera and took a picture, catching her mid-laugh, her hands about to close over a bubble. She turned with the sound of the camera and ran to me with her arms outstretched.

"Look at our girl, John! Up and dressed before all of us!" Sherlock said from behind her, blowing more bubbles.

She wrapped her arms around my waist when she reached me. I picked her up and swung her onto my hip, brushing her flyaway hair out of her eyes.

"Good morning, Sunshine! How are we feeling this morning?" I said with a laugh.

"I feel much better, Papa! Daddy already checked me for a fever and I don't have one at all! And my legs don't hurt today, see?"

She suddenly squirmed out of my arms and started to run circles around me, shrieking with laughter.

"And I'm all better for Daddy's birthday!"

"Certainly the best present I have ever received, Indigo Rose." Sherlock said, his eyes flickering with a hope I had long thought gone.

"Let's go wake up your sister, Indie, I'll bet she'll be surprised to see you waking her up this time!"

We all went upstairs and got the girls ready for the day, adding black tights to Indie's outfit and putting River in a matching black dress and maroon tights. We ate breakfast with Mrs. Hudson, who lit a small candle she had stuck into a blueberry muffin, and started singing 'Happy Birthday.' Sherlock tolerated it well I thought, only rolling his eyes once during the whole bit.

"Indie, you ate your whole breakfast!" Mrs. Hudson said while clearing her plate.

"I was hungry today! I haven't been this hungry in so long, Nana Hudson."

"Well how about I make you your favorite macaroni and cheese for lunch today, dear?"

"Yes, please!"

"Papa, Daddy, may we go back upstairs to play?" River asked, her feet already hitting the ground.

"Up you go then, loves."

"Well she's looking much perkier today, John! It's so wonderful to see those bright eyes and that lovely smile again."

I smiled, listening to the racket the girls were making racing each other up the stairs.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson, yes it is."

I went upstairs and found Sherlock getting ready to go to Scotland Yard for his "birthday present," a stack of cold case files. The girls and I said our goodbyes to him before he left for Scotland Yard and he slipped out the front door with a smile and a wink, donning his black coat and blue scarf. River and Indie raced to the window to watch Sherlock as he disappeared from sight.

River hopped off the windowsill where she was perched and gave me a thumbs up

"It's time to party!"

* * *

Lights and 'Happy Birthday!' banners were strung across the walls, food was set out, and our gifts for Sherlock were wrapped. I put Jack in his red bow tie collar from Christmas as River and Indie handed out party hats and noisemakers of various colors to each guest as they came in.

"Oh, this is so lovely, John! Sherlock will be so surprised!" Molly said as she greeted me, handing me a small gift bag.

"Thank you, Molly, I do hope he knows what's happening though, I have a feeling 'surprise birthday party' didn't make it into the mind palace files." I laughed. She laughed and nodded her head.

"Probably not."

"Aunt Molly, come here, you have to get your hat!" Indie shouted from across the room.

"Coming, Indie!" Molly said, giving me another quick hug before heading over to the girls.

We spent another half hour chatting, the girls periodically running to the window to check whether Sherlock and Greg were back.

"Papa! Daddy and Uncle Greg are here!" Indie yelled.

"Hide!" River shouted, the girls running to hide behind Sherlock's chair, Jack following them. Mycroft crouched behind the arm of the sofa, while Mrs. Hudson and Molly hid in the kitchen. I went to the girls and knelt next to them, their bodies practically shaking with anticipation.

"John? My darlings, I'm home, your Uncle Graham is here too, I don't know why he insisted upon coming up with…"

He was cut off with shouts of "SURPRISE!" as he entered the flat.

He stood in the doorway, a blank look on his face. Oh God, he really had deleted it.

"Daddy, it's a surprise party!" River said, her arms still outstretched from her shout of surprise.

He stood for a few more moments, looking at all of us.

"For me?" He said, his voice filled with a childish confusion I had never heard from him before.

"All for you, Daddy!" Indie said, running to him and enveloping him in a hug.

I went over to him, with River following close behind, and we both hugged him. I looked up at him and pressed my lips to his.

"Happy birthday, my love."

* * *

After the initial shock wore off, Sherlock seemed quite pleased with the party, sitting among the conversation with the girls on his lap, a sort of giddy smile on his face. We ate pizza and cut the cake, Sherlock's cheeks blazing red by the time we finished singing to him.

"Daddy! Open your presents!" River said, chocolate icing spread around her mouth.

The girls went to the table where I had put the presents and gathered them in their arms, placing them in front of them and handing him our present.

"This one is from Papa and Indie and me! Papa took us to the store to buy it." River said, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

He carefully took the paper off the present, his face breaking into a grin when he saw the packaging.

"The most difficult Rubik's cube in existence, hm?"

"Not for you, Daddy, you'll solve it quicker than anybody!" River said, laughter filling the room.

"Only with the help of my little detectives." He said with a wink at the girls.

The girls giggled and continued handing him his presents until the last one had been opened (a very lovely new dressing gown from Mrs. Hudson).

I was gathering the wrapping paper into a trash bag when I heard Indie making quite a commotion to get to the window.

"What's wrong, love?" I asked.

"It's snowing, Papa! Oh, can we go on the roof, please, Papa, please, Daddy?"

Her smile was so wide I thought her pale cheeks would break, her eyes begging and pleading with me.

"It is beautiful outside, John." Sherlock said from his chair, a soft smile directed at our daughter.

"Get your coats, hats, and boots on everybody, we're going to the roof!"

Everyone shuffled about getting ready to go outside, even Mycroft. I pulled down the fire escape and up we went, leaving tracks on the soft layer of snow that lay on the roof. I saw Sherlock's back turned to me and picked up a ball of snow, hurling it him, hitting him square on the head.

He whipped around, a scowl on his face.

The game was on.

"I'm on Daddy's team!" River shouted, pulling Mycroft along with her.

"Papa, I'll be on yours! Uncle Greg, come with us!" Indie said, tugging at Greg's hand.

"I'll take any chance I can get to throw something at Sherlock," he laughed.

Molly joined Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson came to our team.

We tossed snowballs back and forth, our faces red from the cold wind, bellows of laughter and high pitched shrieks echoing out across London.

We stood, out of breath, as River and Indie continued their game, plumes of snow flying into the air as they ran, chasing each other.

"Look everyone! The sun is setting; you can see it just through the clouds!" Indie shouted, stopping her play.

I looked and marveled, not at the sun, but at my daughter, blonde curls wild in the wind, hat long forgotten, her small frame dancing against the backdrop of the setting sun. Glimmers of the dying light reflected off the drops of water and ice that lay on her coat and in her hair, so that it seemed she was glowing.

For a moment, she was the brightest thing in all of London.

And then, she was gone.

* * *

Sherlock and I tucked her and River in that night, her cheeks still red from the cold and wind, her laughter ringing out and cries of 'Daddy, do it again!' as Sherlock did the 'funny' voices in their story. We shut their door and I looked up at Sherlock, his eyes shining with the same euphoria that I felt.

"A very good day, John," was all he said before slipping back downstairs.

It was her last good day, that snowy January 6th. Her fevers returned, her muscles ached with every step, nosebleeds were nearly a daily occurrence, and she slept more and more. There were times I would retreat to our bedroom exhausted, my heart aching with her cries. Sherlock would come in and sit with me on the side of our bed, taking my hand in his.

"Tomorrow will be a better day, John," he would say confidently.

I would nod my head, rubbing my thumb across the palm of his hand.

"Tomorrow will be a better day."


	15. She's Dying, Sherlock

The cold, grey winter days blurred together in an endless stream of medications and doctors' visits as we tried desperately to keep Indie here with us just a little bit longer. Her condition only worsened. Her doctor told us at first that we had maybe three months, which quickly shortened to two, and then, one morning, all we had was one more month left with our little girl.

I remember that morning as an exceptionally cold day, we had the fire as high as it could go, and Indie bundled into her warmest clothes. Her doctor pulled us aside after examining her, a grim look on her face. I tucked the blanket tighter around Indie, making sure she was comfortable, I felt it was all I could do for her anymore. I went into the kitchen where Sherlock and the doctor were sitting. Sherlock's hands were tucked into fists and he stared blankly ahead. I steeled myself against the news I knew I was about to hear, I had been examining Indie daily, listening to the small heart that was growing weaker and weaker with each passing day.

"Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, Indigo's heart is failing. I believe all we can do at this point is keep her as comfortable as possible," the doctor stated, her sad, brown eyes fixed upon us. I searched for some semblance of hope in them, but I could find none.

Sherlock abruptly stood up and crossed towards the front room.

"Sherlock, please," I said weakly, my own voice cracking.

He waved his hand dismissively at me and simply said, "Indigo Rose," before slipping through the door.

Through the crack in the door, I saw him sit on the couch and pull her into his lap. Her head lay on his chest listlessly and her eyes drooped closed, a smile ghosting over her pale face as Sherlock talked with her.

"We need to talk about hospice care for Indigo, nurses will come in and help you care for Indigo and we can bring in a bed and equipment to make her more comfortable. Mr. Holmes may want to be here."

"How long?" I said quietly, continuing to stare at Sherlock, who held our sleeping daughter as close to him as he could, a lost look upon his face.

She sighed, not daring to look at me.

"A month, possibly less."

My head spun, it was only last week when she said Indie had two more months. We had planned to see the new Disney movie coming out in April, I had already started tucking presents into two Easter baskets. We had plans, goddamnit, we had plans!

My finger numbly dialed Mycroft and before I could say anything, his tired voice spoke.

"It will be arranged, John."

The line cut off and I tucked my phone away, not even caring how he knew or what he had rigged in this flat.

"I'll come by again in a few days to check on her, John."

The voice of the doctor startled me, I had forgotten she was still here.

"Yes, thank you…" my voice trailed off.

She stood up and left, quickly squeezing my shoulder as she walked past. I went back to Sherlock and Indie. I kissed her cheek, careful not to wake her. Sherlock wouldn't even look at me.

"Sherlock, can we please talk about what Indie needs next?"

"Indigo needs her family, not strange nurses, John. We have been taking exceptional care of her and we will continue until she no longer needs our care."

I stared at my feet on the floor, tears pricking at my eyes.

"I need help, Sherlock. We need help. We just need to be her parents now; she just needs us to be her Papa and her Daddy."

Sherlock merely grunted in response and I sighed, rubbing my forehead with my hand.

He resisted any other attempts to talk with me and for a time, we sat in silence, Sherlock as still as a statue, with the only sounds coming from the telly and Indie's raspy breaths. I glanced at the clock, River was due home at any moment.

"River will be home shortly, shall I take Indigo upstairs, John?" Sherlock finally spoke.

"No, let River say good afternoon to her before we put her to bed," I said tersely.

"You're upset with me," he said, his eyes flickering with understanding.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock, not now. Please," I said, the last word barely a whisper.

I couldn't deal with him at that moment, I couldn't deal with any of this, putting my daughter in hospice, signing the 'Do not resuscitate' order that meant I couldn't do a damn thing but watch my daughter take her last struggling breath, even though my mind would be screaming at me, 'Save her! Save her!' I would let her fade away, her beautiful voice, her kind heart, her silly jokes, all becoming memories.

The tears came in full force and I held my head in my hands, trying to stem the flow. Sherlock's hand wrenched mine from my eyes, tears splattering onto his sleeve.

I turned to him and he nodded towards Indie, still sleeping in her Daddy's lap.

"You're doing everything you can for her, John, far more than I could ever hope to give her," he said softly, his blue-green eyes filled with sorrow.

"It isn't enough!" I said with a painful cry as I bent into myself, tears continuing to pour from my eyes.

It never would be enough.

* * *

Loud bangs were heard as River flew up the stairs and burst into the room, tossing her purple backpack on the floor.

"Papa, Daddy, Indie! I'm home!" She shouted, a giant smile on her face.

"River, love, how was school?" I asked, picking her up.

"I got an A on my science test! Daddy, can we check on our worms tonight?" She said, turning her head to where Sherlock sat.

"Of course, my darling, we have to measure them and place them in the second condition," he said, a faint smile on his face.

Indie weakly picked her head up, her eyes brightening as she saw her sister was home.

"River!" She said as she struggled to get out of Sherlock's arms.

I set River down and she went over to her sister, tucking her legs underneath her as she sat down. She took Indie's hand in hers and rattled off the events of her day.

I noticed Sherlock's eyes darkening as he looked at the doorway to the stairs and I turned to see what could possibly…ah, Mycroft was here.

He stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed as always in a gray and blue suit, silver watch chain disappearing into his pocket.

"Hello little brother, good afternoon John."

His voice alerted the girls to his presence and River leaped up, running to Mycroft.

"Uncle Mycroft!" River shouted, tossing herself at him.

"River Grace, how lovely to see you, did you and your sister get the dolls I sent from Russia?" He said, patting her on the head.

"We did! They're so pretty, Uncle Mycroft, and they look just like us!" She said with a giggle.

"Pretty dolls for even prettier little girls, River Grace. And how is my Indigo Rose feeling today?" He said, stepping into the room.

"I'm okay, Uncle Mycroft," Indie squeaked out, her eyes already drifting shut.

"Sherlock, best put her to bed, I'll be up in a moment. River, do you want to go up with your sister and play in your room for a little while? Daddy and I have to talk with Uncle Mycroft," I said.

River nodded and went upstairs, Sherlock following soon after, Indie falling asleep in his arms.

"Goodnight, Indigo Rose," Mycroft whispered as she passed by, a gentle softness in his voice.

"Goodnight, Uncle My," she whispered back.

A fond smile crossed his face as he nodded. I pulled a chair up for him before I headed upstairs to put Indie to bed.

* * *

I trudged down the stairs, Sherlock hesitantly following behind me. We sat in our respective chairs, facing Mycroft, his businesslike demeanor only marred by the _tap tap tap _of a nervous finger on pinstripe fabric.__

__"Now, Sherlock, John, I will have my men bring the hospital bed over, along with the other medical supplies tomorrow morning-"_ _

__"Hospital bed?!" Sherlock interrupted, "no, Mycroft, she will stay in her own bed, in her own room!"_ _

__"Sherlock, please appeal to your common sense, a hospital bed here in the front room will allow you and John to hear her if she needs you and she will be closer to the bathroom and your room. She'll be more comfortable."_ _

__"NO!" Sherlock roared, his eyes furious, hands trembling._ _

__I grabbed his shaking hands, frightened by his reaction, "Sherlock, my love, it's for the best, we'll have room down here to set up all the equipment, everything she needs-"_ _

__"She has time, John, that doctor doesn't know what she's talking about! There's more medications to try, we can help her! We are not giving up and putting her in a hospital bed to die!" He shouted as he ripped his hands from mine. He frantically paced the room, running his hands through his hair, his face twisted by fear and rage._ _

__"She doesn't have time, Sherlock! She is dying!" Mycroft said, his voice quiet._ _

__The room became deathly still, Sherlock stopping in his tracks and turning towards his brother. I could see what was about to happen, but I was seconds too late._ _

__Sherlock lunged at Mycroft with a guttural cry, tackling him to the ground. He threw a punch at Mycroft's face before I grabbed Sherlock from behind and pulled him off. I sat with a trembling Sherlock in my arms as Mycroft rolled onto his side, blood pouring from his nose._ _

__"How long, John? You'll tell me the truth, tell me how long our daughter really has, I gathered from the doctor that she has less than a month, but that can't be right, John," he moaned, turning his head toward me, his eyes begging and pleading._ _

__"It is, Sherlock, her heart's failing, love, she doesn't have much time." I whispered._ _

__Sherlock went limp in my arms and the most pitiful noise came from him. It was a cry of earthshattering grief and pain, of finality and loss. I held him even closer to me and buried my face in his hair as he held desperately onto my arms, shaking me, almost as if he thought he could shake a different answer out of me._ _

__Suddenly, the pressure on one of my arms was relieved and I picked my head up to see Mycroft holding one of Sherlock's hands in his own bloodstained hand._ _

__"Oh Sherlock…" Mycroft said._ _

__"My…" Sherlock whispered, his voice entirely childlike._ _

__He leaned into his brother's shoulder and began sobbing. Mycroft ran his other hand through Sherlock's dark curls and hummed a tune I assumed was from their childhood._ _

__I hadn't realized how in denial Sherlock was until that moment, how lost he truly was. He could solve any puzzle, any case put in front of him, and if he couldn't, I could give him the pieces he needed. Mycroft could fix any problem Sherlock had, any slip up that he had made. No case remained unsolved after Sherlock was through with it._ _

__But, Death cannot be solved, cannot be stopped. It takes lives at its will, leaving absolute devastation in its wake. Death would come to 221B Baker Street two weeks later as the sky became soft hues of pink and blue, the morning rays of sun melting the night's frost into glistening dew, a beautiful day beginning as a beautiful life ended._ _


	16. A Golden Heart Stilled

**March 1st, 3:00 PM**

I sat at Indigo's bedside, John sitting next to me, trying to get her to take just a sip of water. Her cracked lips remained closed as she weakly shook her head, jostling the O2 tubing in her nose. I fumbled in my pocket for the tube of chapstick I kept there and I swept the tube across her lips, cursing the blue tinge they held. Fluid was building up in Indigo's lungs as her heart struggled to pump blood to her little body, drowning her.

"Thank you, Daddy, I love you." she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"You're welcome, my darling Indigo Rose. I love you too."

Her sweet face broke into a smile, showing the gaps that adult teeth would never fill. She and River had lost their first teeth at the same time, John teaching me the frankly ridiculous myth of the 'Tooth Fairy.' But when River and Indigo came running down the stairs, toothless smiles beaming and holding fivers proudly in their hands, it didn't seem so ridiculous after all.

I smiled back at her and she held tighter onto my hand. Her eyes frantically searched for John, who had left the room to get her afternoon medications.

"Papa…"

"He'll be back in just a moment, darling. He went to get your medicine."

John came rushing back into the room, bottles and vials balanced in his hands.

"Indie, love, what's wrong? Sherlock, what's wrong?" he said, panic bubbling at the surface.

"Nothing, my love, she just didn't know where you had gone."

"I'm here, Sunshine, I brought you your medicine, I'm going to give it to you now, alright?" he said, preparing each medication for injection into her IV line.

She raised her other hand into the air, beckoning to him.

"Papa…" she said again, her words limited by breathlessness.

"Yes, love?" he said, bending closer to her.

"I love you."

She fell then, into a fitful sleep, her chest rattling with each breath. John kissed her forehead, tears appearing in his eyes, and sat back down next to me. He took my hand, the two of us anxiously waiting for those beautiful eyes to reappear.

**6:00 PM**

River arrived home from school with Greg and Molly around 4 o'clock that afternoon, Mycroft arriving soon after. Mrs. Hudson had made us a roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans for dinner. We sat around Indie, who had woken up feeling a tiny bit better, for dinner. She sat up in bed and took a bite of the mashed potatoes I fed her before pushing the plate away with a tired look on her face.

"That's alright, love, I'll wrap it up for later," I told her, rubbing the back of my hand across her cheek.

She nodded and I went back into the kitchen, adding the plate to the stack of plates in the fridge from last night's dinner and lunch today.

When I returned, Greg had Jack in his lap, feeding him bits of chicken, the snorting sounds of a ravenous pug making the girls giggle.

"You girls have the loudest little dog I have ever seen," Greg laughed.

Then he began to play with his food, putting a green bean on his lip as a mustache, encouraging the girls to do the same, and even slapped a green bean on Sherlock's nose. Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he brushed off the offending vegetable, muttering under his breath. But he was giving that half-smile I knew and loved, only his pride keeping him from laughing out loud. The girls laughed and played with Greg as we all reveled in the joy that had temporarily chased away the sadness and anxiety permeating the flat.

After dinner had been finished, we played dress-up with the girls, Molly helping the girls pick out outfits for all of us. Sherlock was given his deerstalker to wear and a pink cape. I was given a crown to wear and Greg wore bunny ears on his head. Mrs. Hudson had a safari hat on and Mycroft was given a pink tiara, which he placed on his head dramatically, causing the girls to giggle. Molly and the girls dressed in matching tutus and had pink glitter wands. They pretended to cast spells on us, turning us into various animals and objects.

But soon after the games began, Indie's eyes began to droop closed, her wand no longer gripped tightly in her hand. The flat fell silent and the somber waiting resumed, every adult eye focused on the small girl in the white bed that was much too large for her, watching her chest rise and fall, rise and fall.

"Well, we best be off so our Little Miss Sunshine can get some shut eye, eh?" Greg announced, breaking the silence.

Greg and Molly stood up and River dashed over to them, giving them hugs and kisses goodbye.

"Bye Uncle Greg and Aunt Molly!" She sang.

"Goodnight, River," they said, laughing as they returned River's hugs and kisses.

They made their way back over to Indie, both gently placing kisses on her forehead. She reached her arms up and hugged Greg around the neck.

"I love you Uncle Greg"

"I love you too, little miss, I'll be 'round again tomorrow after work." he said, his voice cracking. Tears sprung to my eyes and my heart wrenched as she shook her head and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He gave her one last kiss and turned from her, tears freely flowing down his cheeks.

Her weak voice spoke again, this time to a crying Molly, who had gathered Indie into her arms.

"I love you Aunt Molly. Don't cry, I'll be back to visit."

"I love you too, Indie," Molly sniffled. She took a shaky breath before continuing, "Come…come back to visit often, sweetheart."

She kissed Indie again and glanced at me, her eyes utterly heartbroken.

"I'll see you tomorrow, John, see you tomorrow, Sherlock," she gasped out.

Greg nodded his goodbye to us, and with that they left, hanging onto each other for dear life. The front door closed and I heard Molly cry into the night, her scream echoing down Baker Street.

I shut my eyes against the noise and opened them to find Indie fast asleep and River in Sherlock's arms watching a show on her tablet, Sherlock absentmindedly playing with her curls. Mycroft had gotten up and stood looking into the raging fireplace, one arm stretched out with his hand gripping the mantle that held that damn clock, with its incessant tick tock, tick tock that grew louder every day. Mrs. Hudson took my hand as we resumed watch of our little girl.

Her breaths were growing more shallow, more gurgled, and I knew that there wasn't much time left at all. Sherlock looked at me with eyes drowning in sorrow and I could see that he knew it too.

**7:30 PM**

When the room came back into focus, River was no longer in my arms, but in Mycroft's, reading a book concerning the metamorphosis of frogs to him. I caught River's eye and she stopped reading, shutting the book and bouncing back to me.

"Daddy, you're back! Where did you go in your mind palace this time?" She chattered as she leaned against my legs, staring intently at me.

I had gone to the biggest room my palace held, a room strung with streamers of pink and purple, stars shooting across the sky, their brilliance filling the room with a shining light. Toys, dolls, crayons, and empty bottles of bubble bath littered the soft white carpet and laughter filled the room. I opened a file and I was standing in green grass as jet black and soft blonde curls in royal blue coats spun around me. John, about three years younger, stood across the way, beckoning to us. The girls were in my arms then, their chubby faces dimpled as they beamed at me. I went to John and he gave all of us kisses, taking Indigo from me. We sat on the blue blanket spread out beneath us. The girls waved their little hands at passersby, earning smiles and friendly 'hellos.' John let out his hearty laugh as the girls called to the ducks. He put birdseed into their hands and they stuck them out to the cautious ducks approaching.

Nasty things, ducks are. I disliked them ever since one had bit me as a child, but that day I had inexplicably found myself with a duck's bill in my hands, noisily consuming birdseed.

"Daddy, Daddy! Look at the duckies!" Indigo shouted, her pudgy fingers patting a duck on the head. Her hair shone like gold in the sun, her eyes were round and bright, framed by her beautiful, long lashes. She laughed, a laugh that was so like John's, as the duck nuzzled into her pockets.

I began to spin back to the flat, Indigo's laughter carrying me back into reality.

"Daddy, you're back! Where did you go in your mind palace this time?"

"The room I love the most."

"Our room, Daddy?"

"Yes, darling, the most brilliant room of all."

**8:30 PM**

Moments after Mrs. Hudson had taken River to the bathroom to get ready for bed, Indie woke up gasping for air. I jumped up and quickly sat her up, propping pillows behind her as she coughed and wheezed. Sherlock grabbed her hand and spoke softly to her, brushing his hand over her unwashed hair.

"Papa, help me, help me, Daddy," she gasped.

"We will, love, we will, I promise," I said, my mind panicking.

I gave her another dose of Lasix through her IV, trying to get her body to get rid of the fluid that was filling her lungs. She stopped coughing and her breathing calmed down. She sighed and her head lolled back onto the pillows, her eyes dull, blue shadows as dark as night underneath them.

Mycroft stood at the foot of her bed, his hand clenched into a fist at his mouth, his brow furrowed in worry.

"Can I do anything, John?" He finally said.

"Hold…my hand…Uncle My," Indie gasped out.

Mycroft was at her side in a flash, taking her hand in his.

"Now…hold Daddy's hand," she said.

The two brothers grasped each other's hands and Indie's cracked and blue tinged lips quirked into a smile.

"Daddy…tell Uncle My that… you love him"

"I don't remember the last time I did that, Sunshine," he said, a sad note in his deep baritone.

"Well do it…now, Daddy."

Sherlock brought her hand to his lips, gently kissing it before placing it back onto the bed. He straightened up and looked Mycroft in the eye. Mycroft straightened and looked at his younger brother, his face stony. It almost looked as if they were ready to fight each other.

"I…I love you, Mycroft." Sherlock said, his eyes quickly looking down.

"Sherlock, look at me."

He brought his eyes up again, sheepishly looking at his older brother.

"I love you too, Sherlock."

**9:00 PM**

River skipped into the room in purple flannel pajamas, followed closely by Mrs. Hudson. River's hair hung straight and damp, her bare feet padding across the floor. She came to a rest at Indie's bedside, John lifting her onto the bed. She crawled to Indie's side and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Indie stirred, her eyes flashing with joyful recognition, but they quickly closed again.

Color was nearly gone from her face. She was fading from this life, from all of us. I wracked my brain again for anything that could give her a few more days, but all I could find was a large white room, devoid of anything but a small, broken picture of our family on the floor.

I leaned forward in my chair and ran my hands through my hair.

Something, there has to be something.

I looked at John's beautiful blue eyes and only saw mourning and sorrow in them with not a single shred of hope. And if John had given up hope…

…There really was nothing to do.

I held onto Indigo's hand for dear life, memorizing every facial feature, her dark eyelashes, her golden hair hanging just below her shoulders, those beautiful hazel eyes, her button nose that was John's, small lips with a large cupid's bow, her cheekbones sharp, two front teeth missing, her sing-song voice, her infectious laugh. I remembered how she ran through puddles in a driving rain, how she danced to no music, how she loved everyone and everything, and how it felt to be so loved by her. Every memory was neatly filed and every bruise, every nosebleed, every needle, every pill, every bag of IV fluids was batted away until only my healthy, lively Indigo Rose remained, her eyes shining and full of love, her cheeks round, and her body strong.

And that is how she would remain for the rest of my life.

**9:30 PM**

River and Indie lay together, River chatting while Indie listened, the corner of her lips quirked up. Mycroft sat in my chair, umbrella in hand, while Mrs. Hudson flittered about picking up and putting down objects, pretending to clean, avoiding the inevitable departure from our flat.

Mycroft finally stood up and tapped his umbrella on the floor, taking a deep breath before walking to Indie's bedside.

"I fear I must bid you adieu, my darling princesses."

"Goodnight, Uncle Mycroft! See you tomorrow!" River said, propping herself on her elbow.

"Bye-bye, Uncle My…I love you," Indie said, breathless.

"I love you, my Indigo Rose," Mycroft choked out before quickly turning, light catching on the tears that had begun to roll down his face.

"John, Sherlock, call me immediately if you need anything."

With that he slipped down the stairs to Mrs. Hudson's flat, where he had been staying in her guest bedroom.

Mrs. Hudson dropped Sherlock's slippers into the corner and, finding nothing else to tidy, came to me and enveloped me in a hug.

"Bring River down when she's ready, John."

I nodded and she gently patted my face. She went to Sherlock and he wrapped his arms around her immediately, bending down to bury his face in her shoulder. She rubbed his back and after a time, he let her go.

Tears were already pouring down her face as she made her way to Indie and River. She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief as she sat down on the side of Indie's bed.

"Goodnight, dears," she said, taking them both into her arms.

"Why are you crying, Nana Hudson?" River said, worry apparent in her voice.

"I'll just miss my girls, that's all sweetheart," Mrs. Hudson sniffled.

"You'll see us tomorrow!" River shouted happily.

"And I'll make your favorite pancakes for breakfast, how does that sound?" Mrs. Hudson replied, her voice trembling.

"Yeah! Indie, what do you think, is that what you want for breakfast?" River said, spinning around to face her sister.

Indie simply shook her head.

"Oh, well what do you want for breakfast then, Indie?" River said, bouncing slightly on the bed.

"I don't think…I'll be here, sissy."

The gravity of that sentence completely flew over River's head, but sent Mrs. Hudson into a new round of crying.

Indie turned her head towards the woman that she loved so much.

"I love you, Nana Hudson."

"I love you too, sweet little one," she said, gathering her into her arms as River looked on, confused.

I stepped over and took River into my arms and rocked her. She waved over my shoulder as Mrs. Hudson was helped down the stairs by an expressionless Sherlock, his back straight as an arrow.

He came up a few moments later and settled himself on Indie's bed across from me. River had laid back down with her sister and both were settling into sleep, a routine we had adopted since we moved Indie into the hospital bed.

"River?" Indie coughed.

"What?"

"You're…my best…friend."

"You're mine too, Indie, forever."

"Forever?"

"Forever and ever."

"I…love…you."

"I love you too."

My heart breaking and tears pricking at my eyes, I laid aside of River as Sherlock crawled next to Indie. We joined arms over our daughters and cuddled them, as we had countless nights before.

River and Indie had smiles on their faces and their arms around each other. Their eyes slowly closed together, ocean blue and hazel eyes meeting for the last time.

**11:00 PM**

When it was decided that Indie was to sleep in the bed downstairs, River had screamed and screamed that she didn't want to be alone. With John and I so occupied for the night and barely sleeping ourselves, Mrs. Hudson offered to take River each night. River happily agreed to this arrangement and so she would fall asleep with Indie and John or I would carry her down each night, tucking her into those ghastly floral bedclothes Mrs. Hudson had on her bed.

Tonight, it was John's turn and he picked up River, laying her head against his shoulder, quiet, snuffling snores emanating from her. He walked slowly to the door and down the stairs with her, the dog following them, leaving me alone with Indigo. I paced around her, watching every breath, every monitor she had. Her oxygen saturation sat at 93%, not ideal, but decent, according to John.

My inspection ended and I sat at her side, waiting for John to return. I felt a tug at my hand and looked up to see Indigo watching me.

"Good evening, my darling, it's about 11 at night now, still March 1st. Papa went downstairs to tuck River in, you've been sleeping for about an hour and a half," I told her. As she had been falling asleep randomly, I liked to keep her up to date on the day and time and what had happened since she fell asleep. I didn't want her to feel disoriented and frightened when she woke up.

"Daddy?" She wheezed, her voice but a whisper.

"Yes, Indigo Rose?" I said, leaning closer to her.

"I feel icky, can I have a bubble bath?"

"Of course, princess," I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

I picked up a pair of blue pajamas from the drawers we had placed in the corner of the room and disconnected her from the wires and tubes, happy to see her without them.

She snuggled herself into my arms and off we went. I poured cupfuls of the girls' strawberry bubble bath as the warm water ran into the tub, quickly undressing Indie and placing her into the water before she could catch a chill.

Her frail limbs splashed water onto me as I washed her hair, quiet giggles echoing off the tile.

I laughed and splashed a bit of water onto her. She giggled even louder and reached for me. I leaned closer to her and she placed a large mound of bubbles on the top of my head as she gave me a kiss.

"You're the bubble king, Daddy," she whispered.

"And you're the bubble princess, my darling," I replied with a laugh.

She continued to play with her toys as I finished washing her.

"There you are, all clean."

I reached behind me to grab a towel when she began to cough violently. I turned around to find Indigo with a small trail of blood slowly coming out of the side of her mouth, the bubbles in front of her turned a sickening shade of red.

"John!"

I picked her up and wrapped her in a towel, bending her forward as she continued to cough, staining the towel with red.

"JOHN!"

**11:30 PM**

I had found Sherlock and Indie in the bathroom, Indie coughing up blood and Sherlock in an absolute panic, his eyes wild with fear. I grabbed Indie from him and ran with her into the front room, Sherlock running behind me.

"Sherlock, get her dressed and get that pulse ox back on her finger."

He had her dressed in a flash and the monitor beeped, flashing an "85%" on its screen.

Not good, not good at all.

Sherlock sat behind her, propping her up with his body, blood staining his light blue shirt. I gave her more medicine, trying to get this coughing to stop. It was nearly midnight when her breathing finally settled and she relaxed. But her O2 saturation was still so low, and her blood pressure was dropping.

She weakly lifted her hand from the bed, eyes still wonderfully clear.

We crawled into the bed next to her, both of us struggling to keep from crying.

She turned her head towards me, her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm scared…of going to Heaven…Papa," she moaned, a tear slipping down her cheek.

"Oh…oh sweetheart, don't be scared," I said, running my hand along her damp curls, "Heaven is the loveliest place we can imagine, where the sun is always shining and there's so many flowers and any toy you can think of. You'll be able to run and dance again and go back to school. And you'll come to visit us, love, remember?"

"Don't be frightened, my darling, Papa and I will be here with you the entire time. We'll be right here, we'll never leave, I promise." Sherlock said, his lips trembling.

Our reassurance seemed to give her strength and she sang, "I love you, Papa, I love you, Daddy," her voice louder than it had been in weeks.

"I love you too, Indie, my beautiful Sunshine, I love you so much." I said, my voice breaking.

Sherlock's eyes were filled with tears and his breathing was strangled as he grasped onto her small hand.

"I love you, my darling Indigo Rose, I love you, I love you."

We laid our heads next to hers, murmuring a lifetime's worth of words until her eyelids fluttered closed, her beautiful hazel eyes disappearing forever.

**March 2nd, 6:30 AM**

Sherlock and I laid with her throughout the night, both of us wide awake. Indie's breathing was labored and her O2 saturation continued to drop, no matter how much I turned the oxygen up.

I got up just before sunrise and went to the locked box I kept on the shelf, taking the vial of morphine out and giving Indie her morning dose.

I laid back down and took Sherlock's hand, his eyes had become cold and empty, focused only on our daughter that lay between us.

I gently placed my ear against her chest, just to hear her heart beat. I lost myself in that comforting sound, the sound that meant my daughter was still alive, still with me.

_Ba-dum._

I held Indie in my arms, about 2 months old and her head full of light brown hair. We sat in a rocking chair we had placed in the front room. I held a pacifier in her mouth, feeling her gums chew on my finger. It was so very late at night and I was exhausted, but she was wide awake. Her dark eyes watched me intently as I sang to her, trying to get her to fall back asleep.

Then her mouth curved up around the pacifier and a giggle escaped her.

I had made her laugh! Her first laugh!

I spent the rest of that night making silly faces at her as she giggled away.

God, what a wonderful sound.

_Ba-dum_

I knelt on the rug and held my arms out to Indie, who hung onto my chair, her chubby legs teetering.

"Come on, love, walk to Papa." I said, waving my arms towards me.

She took her first cautious step, then another, and another, until she fell into my arms, laughter ringing out.

"Brilliant, John, our girl is brilliant! Walking at 9 months!" Sherlock celebrated from where he sat filming her.

I kissed her baby soft face and lifted her into the air, her arms outstretched, her smile radiant.

_Ba-dum_

I tugged a yellow sundress over her head and tied her curls into their first pigtails as Indie struggled to get away from me. She was 2 now and wanted to get into everything, asking "What's that?" as she held it in her hands, or drug it out of its hiding spot.

She spilled her blocks onto the floor and began building as she sang happily to herself.

I sat in my chair and leaned back with the paper in my hands, now that Indie was occupied.

"Papa!" I heard her call.

"Yes, love?" I replied, shutting the paper in my hands.

"I love you!" She cheerily shouted.

The sun was shining into the windows at just the right angle to make her golden hair glow and she looked as though she was the Sun itself.

"I love you too, Sunshine."

_Ba-dum_

I shrugged Indie's backpack on and we all set off to take the girls to their first day of school.

"John, I could easily teach them at home, they're too advanced for these classes, they'll be utterly bored!" Sherlock sulked.

"They need social interaction; they need to learn what the other children are learning. They are going to school, Sherlock." I said.

He rolled his eyes and continued his pout for the rest of the walk and into the school.

We stopped at the entrance of their classroom and River dashed in with a hug and kiss.

Indie held firmly onto my hand as I tried to nudge her forward.

"Papa, I don't want to go," she whispered, her eyes clouded with tears.

"You'll do so well, Sunshine, look there's toys and other children to play with, they're already waving to you."

She shuffled nervously and began to sniffle.

"And if you need us, you can call us, love, and we'll be right here."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Indie. Papa and Daddy will always be here for you, whenever you need."

She let go of my hand and with a little encouragement, she walked into the classroom and sat with her sister, who was already chatting away with another little girl. Indie nervously waved goodbye and I waved back.

Sherlock and I walked hand and hand out of the school and we sat in a café across the street for the rest of the school day, my hand on my phone.

Just in case.

_Ba-dum_

Indie bounced onto Sherlock and I's bed, shaking me out of sleep.

"Indie! What's wrong, are you hurt?" I slurred, still groggy.

"It's our birthday, Papa!"

I glanced at the clock, half past 7.

"Yes it is, love, happy birthday!" I told her with a smile. "Six years old already, my, my how big you're getting." I said, hugging her close to me.

"I think my feet already grew," she said, closely inspecting her foot.

I laughed and ruffled her messy curls. I carried her into the front room where Sherlock was already sitting with River and Mrs. Hudson sat next to them, holding two muffins with candles stuck into them, her usual birthday greeting.

We sang to them and they blew their candles out, thin pillars of smoke carrying the wishes of two little girls. Indie's face enveloped with her wide grin as we fussed over her and her sister.

Mrs. Hudson stood next to me, smiling as we watched them open their presents.

"They're growing up terribly fast, John, I remember when I had to teach you two how to change their nappies!" she laughed.

I smiled and laughed at the memory of a flustered Sherlock, covered in baby powder, trying to tape down a nappy.

"They are, Mrs. H, they are."

And then…nothing.

I sat up, grabbing her thin wrist and feeling for a pulse that was no longer there. I knelt next to her and began CPR, damn the DNR order, damn it to Hell, I would save my daughter.

_One, two, three, four…_

The room clouded around me, only Indigo clear in my vision. Please, God, bring her back to me.

_Five…six…seven…eight_

I felt hands pulling me away, no, no, I had to save her!

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" I snarled at whoever dared to interrupt me.

_John…_

_John…_

A pale face came into view, his eyes rimmed with red.

"John, she's gone. My love, she's gone." Sherlock quietly said.

I looked down at my beautiful girl. Her face had relaxed into a calm serenity, her hair lying neatly around her head. Her arms lay at her sides, fingernails painted a bright pink, the sleeves of her pajamas just a bit too long.

She was so still.

I felt for a pulse again and looked at my watch through a haze of tears. Finding none, I pronounced her.

We fell into each other's arms and I watched as the Sun rose, rays of light filtering through the windows, shining onto the small face that could no longer feel its warmth, onto eyes that could not see, onto the lips that would never again smile at a sunny day.

* * *

We sat with Indie until they came for her. Sherlock and I wrapped her in a white sheet, tucking her teddy bear in with her. I carried her to the van waiting outside and we kissed her forehead, telling her again how much we loved her. A man began to pull the sheet over her face when Sherlock grabbed him.

"Don't you dare cover her face!" he growled threateningly.

The man set the sheet back down and nodded his head. We climbed out and stood on the sidewalk, getting one last glimpse of our daughter before the doors were shut.

They drove away, leaving us behind to pick up the shattered pieces of our lives. I reached for Sherlock's hand to find that it was not there. The door to the flat was hanging wide open and I went back inside. I heard a commotion from our flat and rushed up the stairs.

The noises were coming from our bedroom, the door locked and barricaded. Things were being thrown inside, the sounds of glass breaking and wood splintering mixing with screaming.

"Sherlock!" I yelled, "Sherlock! Open the door!"

The destruction continued, the cries becoming more frantic and desperate.

I fell onto my knees, still grasping at the door handle, my strength finally leaving me. I set my forehead against the door, my own cries and screams joining Sherlock's, calling out to our little girl that would never come home.


	17. An Impossible Equation

Beakers smashed against the wall, pages from files fluttered to the floor, notebooks torn in two. My useless hands cut open, wounds marking my clothes with crimson.

Why did any of this matter?

My daughter is dead.

What could possibly matter ever again?

* * *

Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson came upstairs, undoubtedly awoken by Sherlock, and found me sitting limply against the wall in front of our eerily silent bedroom. Mrs. Hudson, her face red and eyes puffy, knelt next to me, taking me into her arms.

"Oh, John, my poor boy," she said.

"I failed her Mrs. Hudson, I couldn't save her, my little girl," I sobbed.

I let myself go then, a thin shoulder my only support, a motherly voice and hand on my back keeping me in this reality I no longer wanted to face.

* * *

I opened my eyes and found myself on our sofa, a cold, wet flannel falling into my lap as I jolted upright. The hospital bed still sat in the room, tubes snaking across the floor, and bottles of medications sitting on the desk.

I quickly got up, ignoring the dizziness and nausea that swept over me, and went over to the bed, hoping to find her there, hoping this was all an awful dream.

It was terribly empty.

I laid down, holding onto her blanket that still smelled of lavender and strawberries, setting my head on the pillow where stray curls lay, curling up next to the space on the sheets that still held her shape.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see Mrs. Hudson.

"Where's River?" I asked her, suddenly frantic.

"She's still sleeping, it's still so early and I didn't want to wake her, she looked so peaceful," she said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

I nodded my head and wiped tears from my eyes. I heard Mycroft call for me and as I went into the hallway, I saw Mrs. Hudson sit on the bed and hold Indie's blanket in her hands, rubbing her thumb over the soft fabric. She folded the blanket, small sobs escaping her as she slowly began to straighten up the table next to her, putting dull crayons back in boxes, closing coloring books with pictures that would never be finished, and gathering the dolls that would never be played with again.

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry, I shouldn't touch her things…" She said, her voice drifting.

I crossed the room and put my arms around her, as she had done for me. She clutched the baby doll Indie loved most to her and sobbed. We sat like that for a moment, before she weakly said, "I'll make us all a cuppa," and walked into the kitchen, setting the doll gently back onto the table.

"John?"

I looked at the doorway and saw Mycroft standing there with his hair disheveled and suit jacket unbuttoned.

"He's injured and he won't say a word to me, he only shuts the door when I try to go into the room," he said.

"What did he injure?" I said, quickly getting up and following him down the hall.

"His hands, I believe."

I glanced into our bedroom through a crack in the door. The floor was littered with debris and Sherlock was slumped against the wall by the door, his hands coated in dried and congealed blood.

I kicked the door all the way open and crouched next to him.

"Sherlock, can you hear me?" I shouted, shaking his bony shoulder.

He sat there motionless, without even a blink.

Christ, was he catatonic? My mind flashed to the morphine I had been giving Indie and I looked at his pupils with my penlight, praying they weren't pinpoints.

His eyes were glazed over, but his pupils were normal and reactive. I breathed a sigh of relief, turning my attention to his wounded hands.

"Sherlock, I'm going to go to the bathroom and get some bandages, these are just superficial."

I quickly walked out of the room and told Mycroft to watch him before going to the bathroom. I came back and cleaned his hands, wrapping them in bandages and antibiotic ointment, without a single flinch or movement from him.

The clock in the front room chimed and I glanced at my wrist, forgetting I had tossed my watch into the bin. I couldn't bear to look at the face of that watch again.

"Mycroft, what time is it?"

"8:00"

The girls would…River would be waking up soon. My heart dropped into my stomach and I swallowed back the intense nausea that overcame me. I stood up, my knees trembling slightly, and clumsily made my way out of the room.

"Watch Sherlock, I have to go get River."

* * *

Indigo and I were sitting in her room reading a book when I felt a sharp stinging in my hands. I dropped the book onto my lap and rubbed them together.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" Indigo said from my lap, her eyes worried.

"Nothing, my darling, now, where were we?"

I picked the book back up and she continued to read to me, her curly pigtails bouncing as she enunciated each word. She was already reading at a Year 6 level and her pronunciation of difficult words was better than most adults. We had just started violin lessons and she played her scales and little songs without error. My little girl was an absolute genius.

She was the embodiment of perfection.

The stinging came again and I felt like something was being wrapped around my hands.

Such an odd sensation.

I would have to ask John about it later.

* * *

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself before knocking gently on Mrs. Hudson's bedroom door. I opened the door and crept quietly in, the sight of those raven curls making me sigh with a strange relief, like I was expecting River to have gone too.

She lay sleeping, her small body somehow taking up the entire bed, her arm wrapped around her teddy bear, her legs tangled in the sheets. Jack lay at her feet, tail wagging at my appearance. I bent and pet him on the head, his silly face making me almost laugh.

Indie loved Jack, loved his lopsided grin and his morning kisses.

I thought I had long run out of tears, but they started to pour down my cheeks. Jack whined and licked my face.

"There's a good boy, good boy, Jack," I whispered to him, teardrops hitting his fur.

River began to toss and turn and I went to her side and laid down next to her, waiting for her to fully wake up.

Her bright blue eyes peeped at me and a sleepy smile crossed her face.

"Good morning, lovebug," I said, trying to give her a small smile.

"Good morning, Papa, where's Daddy? He usually comes too. Can I see Indie? Can we have pancakes for breakfast? I dreamed about a giant elephant, hello Jack!" she cheerily sang, sitting up and greeting me and Jack with a full smile.

"River, sweetheart, I need to talk to you, come here, love. Come sit with Papa." I said, pulling myself up.

She scrambled into my lap and I wrapped my arms around her. Her eyes were wide, looking at me innocently, a grin on her face.

How could I do this?

How could I destroy my little girl's world?

"Sweetheart, last night," my voice cracked, "last night, Indie got very sick." I watched her cheerful face fall and I swallowed back bile as I continued, "She fought terribly hard, but this morning, lovebug…this morning Indie went to heaven, I'm so sorry, love," I said, each word tearing at my heart.

Fat teardrops began to roll down her cheeks, a look of disbelief on her face. Her breathing was rapid, almost as if she was hyperventilating. I ran my hand down her mess of curls and tried to pull her closer to me, but she pushed back against me.

"No, Papa, you're lying! You're lying!" She screamed at me, her eyes now wild. She violently wriggled out of my arms and ran out the door, the dog following her.

"River! Wait!" I shouted, my arms desperately reaching for her. I ran after her, nearly tripping on the sheets that had fallen to the floor.

I ran up the stairs and into the flat. A tearful Mrs. Hudson held River, her sobs making her gasp for breath and her whole body shake. I went over to them and took my trembling child from her.

River held onto me for dear life as I sat in my chair with her, rubbing her back with my hand.

"Papa's here, lovebug, just cry, cry as much as you want," I told her as she buried her face even deeper into my neck, her tears soaking my collar.

She picked her head up, her eyes puffy and red, her sweet face so sorrowful.

"Papa, where's Daddy? Is he gone too? Daddy, Daddy!" She screamed.

"Daddy's alright, he's just in the other room, River, shh, he's here, he's here," I said, trying to calm her down.

She kept screaming, struggling against my arms, hitting at me with small fists. But I couldn't let her go and dash into the mess Sherlock was in, letting her see him in that state. I took out my phone and texted Mycroft telling him to get Sherlock out here, to drag him out if he had to.

His daughter needed him.

I needed him.

* * *

"Daddy! Daddy!" I heard a small girl distantly yell over the noise of the city.

River?

I stopped in my tracks, Indigo patiently holding my hand as I listened for another cry.

"Daddy!" I heard her scream again, this time much more frantic, much louder. But River couldn't be here, she was at school, John was at the clinic.

Panic began to rise in my chest.

Did she get out of school early? Did I forget to pick her up? Did someone take her?

"River!" I yelled into the sea of people on the sidewalk, looking to see if I could see her in the crowd.

I felt a tug on my hand and looked down at Indigo, who stood still holding my gloved hand in hers, a sad look on her little face.

"Indigo, come on, we have to find your sister," I said, tugging at her hand.

"You have to go back, Papa and River need you," she said somberly, standing firmly in place.

"I need you too, Indigo, I can't go, darling, not to a life without you," I said, crouching down to her level, "Here I can hold you in my arms, I can watch you play, hear your laugh, your lovely voice. I can give you a goodnight kiss, we can read together, I can teach you violin. Here you're alive, and back there, in that terrible world, you are not. That is a reality I cannot face, Indigo Rose."

She smiled sadly at me then.

"But, I'm not real, Daddy" she said, the ground beginning to tremble, "you have to go home."

Her hand disappeared from my own and she faded away, the faceless crowd swallowing the place where she once stood.

"Indigo, no, don't leave me! Please!" I begged, leaping forward in a panic, my arms flailing, trying to grasp onto her again.

I fell to my knees as the world around me shook violently, the sidewalk beneath me crumbling.

"I love you, Daddy," her voice whispered.

And then I was falling…

* * *

My phone buzzed and I struggled to get it out of my pocket as River continued to cry for Sherlock.

**He's coming out. I dressed him in more presentable attire.- MH**

I heard quiet footsteps enter the room and turned to see a man I hardly recognized. His normally ice blue eyes were dulled, his face slack, his back hunched, the normally well-fitting suit wrinkled and in disarray. His eyes bore into me and I wondered if I was just as unrecognizable, with grief overtaking every part of my being.

"Daddy!" River screamed again, holding her arms out to Sherlock.

Her scream snapped him into action. He ran to us like lightning, pulling us both to the floor, all of us crying. Sherlock's bandaged hands grasped the back of my jumper and River held onto him with a vice-like grip. I wrapped my arms around the both of them, the empty space where Indie would've sat like a gaping wound.

Our little family of four had become a family of three, an equation that I couldn't comprehend, an equation I never thought possible when Sherlock and I brought two newborn little girls home to a blossoming Baker Street, reveling in this perfect world we had created.

* * *

"Good thing there's two of us, eh, Sherlock, one for each of them?" I said one morning as I fed River, delirious from the lack of sleep the night before.

"Your arithmetic skills astound me, John," he said, a playful smirk on his face, "but yes, it is most helpful." He finished burping Indie and carefully cradled her against him, his other hand typing away at his laptop.

"Your Daddy is an arrogant sod, isn't that right, my little lovebug?" I teased, finishing her feeding.

"Language, John," his deep baritone admonished.

"Come off it Sherlock, you've been talking to them about cases and your experiments since the day we brought them home, I've heard you while I'm in the shower."

"I'm nurturing their already vast intelligence, John, and you will nurture their noble hearts-"

He paused and looked fondly at Indie sleeping in his arms, rubbing his finger across the baby fuzz on her head.

"For they are growing, much faster than either of us would like, John, and they will do remarkable things, far greater than we can imagine."


	18. Sunflowers Shifting in the Wind

I pried small hands from my arm and tucked her in, thankful she had slept through the night without crying out. I left the bedroom door open, shuffling into the front room and settling into my chair with Jack, staring at the spot where Indie had lain, her toys and books still piled on the table. We were three days into this strange new life without our Indigo Rose, and the grief was nearly too much to bear. Mycroft had returned to his estate, but not before leaving us an envelope with a bill from the funeral home marked 'Paid.' Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Greg had come and gone throughout the last few days, dropping food off, mainly for River's sake as neither Sherlock or I had any appetite, and keeping us company through the hours that seemed never ending.

River clung to Sherlock and I, refusing to have us out of her sight for more than a moment. Her therapist had visited every day too, helping us get her through the first days without her sister, her best friend.

"I told Miss Laura that you told me that Indie isn't sick anymore, and she said you were right, that Indie wasn't hurting anymore," River had said to me one night.

"That's right, love, Indie's not sick anymore."

She didn't respond right away, only fiddling with the doll in her hands.

"River, what are you thinking about? You can tell me, lovebug." I told her, bringing her closer to me.

"I'm glad Indie isn't hurting, but Papa, will I ever stop hurting?" She sniffled, brushing her hand down her doll's long dark hair.

I put my hand under her chin and picked her head up so that she was facing me, but her eyes avoided mine.

"River, can you look at me?"

She nodded and brought her eyes up, tears already falling down her cheeks.

"It won't stop hurting completely, sweetheart, but with time, the pain will become less and less."

"Will I be able to think about her without crying, Papa?"

"Someday, love. And someday, we'll be able to think about all the fun we had with her and laugh and feel happy."

"I'd like that, Papa. Me and Indie laughed all the time. She was so funny. My favorite things to do with her were play and laugh. I thought we could do that forever."

Her sniffling turned into sobs then, tears dripping onto her doll and her lap.

I picked her up and cradled her against my shoulder, her sobs growing louder and louder. I felt tears running down my face as I cuddled her.

"I miss her, Papa!" She cried.

"Oh, River, I miss her too."

* * *

Quick footsteps ran down the stairs from the girls' room. Sherlock had been spending most of his nights there, playing Indie's song over and over again, intermittently playing the song he had composed for the girls' birthday party. Once in a while, I heard a new song, its haunting melody one of overwhelming sadness that tore at me as I sat in my chair, brandy in hand, trying to chase the sight of her lifeless face away.

Sherlock had stopped speaking to nearly everyone, including myself, merely giving them shrugs or dismissive waves. He spoke only to River now, her presence in his arms and her chatter bringing a glimmer of light to his dim eyes.

This morning was no different, my good morning met only with a frighteningly cool glare. He sat at the desk, looking through Indie's coloring books for the twentieth time this week. His hair was untamed and he had left his growing stubble. A crust of crimson lay on his bottom lip and his eyes were sunken, a deep purple halo forming around them.

He looked bloody awful.

But, I was growing more and more angry with him. I couldn't go to him with our shared grief, we couldn't lean on each other for support. He had left me stranded in this cold, dark sea, struggling against the current. His state broke my heart, but I hated how selfish he was being.

She was my daughter too.

The explosion came after he had ignored me for the tenth time that morning.

"Sherlock? Please, we need to talk about tomorrow."

Nothing.

I felt heat rise through my neck and into my face. I clenched my fist and slammed it against the arm of my chair, knocking my mug onto the floor, shattering it. The noise startled him into looking at me.

"Goddamnit, Sherlock, talk to me! Say something! I want to help you, but you just shut me out. What about me? You've just left me on my own during the worst days of my life, is this what you meant when you promised to love me and comfort me when you put this bloody ring on my finger? And what about River? Do you think she can handle seeing you like this after everything she's been through?"

At this point I was shaking him furiously and screaming, tears streaming down my face.

"Jesus Christ, our daughter is dead, her sister is dead, and her father looks like he's well on his way to following her! Is that what you want? Do you want to die too, leave us behind so you don't have to suffer this hell anymore, you selfish prick?!"

Tears were in his eyes at this point, but he still didn't respond, infuriating me even more. I dropped my arms to my sides and shook my head.

"Fine, fine, you shut yourself off from the rest of the world and I'll just keep taking care of everything. Don't expect River or I to be here when you decide to be a husband and father again."

With that, I stormed into the bedroom, and laid down with River, taking her into my arms and silently crying, tears dripping onto my pillow. I watched the door, waiting for him to come in, but the door remained closed. I sighed and closed my eyes, falling into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson and I sat with River on the floor later that day, playing one of those memory card games with her. Sherlock was back upstairs, his violin drawing out that haunting melody. A few more minutes went by before the song ended with a screech and Sherlock was suddenly in the doorway, a lost expression on his face.

"John?" He whispered.

I stood up, River standing up with me, holding onto my hand and waving furiously at Sherlock, shouting hello at him.

"River, love, can you stay here and finish the game with Nana Hudson? Daddy and I need to talk, we'll just be in our room, alright?" I said to her with a smile.

She hesitated for a moment before nervously nodding her head.

"There's my brave girl, we'll be back in a bit."

She let go of my hand and sat back down, flipping a blue heart card over. I walked towards the bedroom, motioning Sherlock to follow me, which he did, his head hanging.

"So you're going to talk to me now?" I asked, sitting on the bed.

He nodded his head and sat next to me, twisting his hands together, his foot tapping against the floor.

"John, I am so sorry, John, please don't leave me, please don't take River away from me, please," he began to cry, "I could hardly bear losing Indigo, if I lost you both I wouldn't hesitate to jump from this building or poison my own tea. I can't live without you, please don't go!"

He threw himself onto me, thin fingers wrapping my shirt around them. Guilt and grief overcame me and I grasped at him just as tightly and we cried into each other's arms.

"I just wanted you to come back to us, Sherlock, I thought we were going to lose you too." I let him go, my feelings overwhelming me, and began to pace around the room. "None of this makes sense, our little girl, our wonderful, lovely little girl, is gone. She was supposed to be learning to play violin and she was supposed to go to the beach this summer and make that sandcastle I promised we could make! She was supposed to grow up into a beautiful young woman and slam her doors and tell us she hated us when we wouldn't let her go out, she was supposed to graduate and become a veterinarian, maybe marry some bloke that we couldn't stand and become a mother! She's supposed to be running and dancing and playing because she's just our little girl. But she won't be doing any of those things because I couldn't save her, Sherlock. Christ, what kind of father am I?"

I stood in front of Sherlock, tears again pouring down my face, my breathing ragged, and my nails digging into my palms.

"The best father, John. You cared for Indigo day and night and spoke to her doctors and arranged her care when I could not. You tried to save her and I pulled you away, giving up on our daughter. I locked myself away from River, only seeing her for brief moments before I had to run and hide again. To see her without her sister, to listen to her cries, it was all too much. I left the both of you, I abandoned my family if not physically, but mentally. Never question how good of a father you are, John, because you are a far better father to our precious girls than I ever was or could be."

"You don't think you're a good father, Sherlock?" I asked, softly.

He hung his head and shook it, his dark curls swaying back and forth.

"I think you're a good Daddy. Indie thought so too,' a small voice said. I looked towards River's voice and saw her peeking her head through the crack in the door. She tiptoed in and shut the door behind her, walking over to Sherlock, who picked her up and sat her on his lap.

She continued, "Indie told me lots of times that she thought you were the best Daddy and Papa ever. When we saw shooting stars, Indie wished that everyone had a Daddy and a Papa just like you."

I smiled to myself, that was our Indie.

"She would always say I was the perfect Daddy, except for when I made your Uncle Gabe 'use all those bad words' and when I made your Papa 'sigh really, really loud and count to twenty.'" Sherlock said, giving a slight chuckle.

"And I was the perfect Papa, unless…" I trailed off

"Unless what, Papa?"

"Unless I became the Tickle Monster!" I said, tickling River. Her face broke out into a wide smile and she squealed with laughter, leaping out of Sherlock's lap and running back to Mrs. Hudson.

We followed after her and spent the rest of the evening playing games, stopping once River began to yawn in my arms, her eyes drifting closed. After we had tucked her in for the night, Sherlock turned to go upstairs, but hesitated on the first step.

"What's wrong?"

"John, I need to finish, but I am frightened to be alone tonight. The thought that tomorrow will be the last day I see her is overwhelming…please sit with me," he whispered.

"Can't you stay down here to finish?"

"No, John, I need to be surrounded by my memories, I need to be surrounded by her."

I nodded and followed him up the stairs.

We spent most of the night in that happy yellow room bordered by sunflowers, her paintings decorating the walls, her astronaut pajamas puddled on the floor, and memories of dress-up and stories, of dancing before breakfast and kisses goodnight sweeping over me.

We spent most of the night with her.

* * *

I held a sobbing River as John somberly stepped onto the pulpit and adjusted the microphone, his face grey and drawn.

She lay in a small white coffin clothed in a light pink dress, her beautiful face peaceful and serene. That morning, I had placed her violin with her, its strings barely played, and tucked her soft pink blanket in with her. John had placed her silver locket on her chest and a sunflower in her hands. River set a card in the coffin, two little girls enclosed in a heart drawn on the front.

John cleared his throat, pulling at his yellow bow-tie, and held his paper down with trembling hands, his voice cracking as he began,

'To my sweet Indigo Rose, my brilliant Sunshine, I miss your smile, your singing laugh, your wonderful, kind heart. I miss flying with you through the living room, 'like the aeroplanes, Papa!' I miss listening to you name all your dolls and telling me their stories. I miss kissing you goodnight and watching your eyes flutter closed as you told me you loved me. I miss hugs before school and watching you paint me and Daddy pictures. I miss walks in the park and singing while you and your sister helped me make dinner.

I miss everything about you, my sweet Indie.

I remember the nurse handing you to me wrapped in a pink swaddle soon after you were born, your hair peeking out from the tiny pink hat Mrs. Hudson had knitted. I looked at you, and you looked at me, your newborn eyes squinting in the light. That day, I saw the world in those big beautiful eyes and I knew then that you would change the world, you would move mountains, you would be amazing.

And I was right. You lit up every room you walked into and every person left you with a smile on their face because of your love for them and your love of life. You lived life with passion, spending every moment singing, playing, or dancing, splashing in the rain, walking down the street, holding my hand and pointing out all the little things that I would have never noticed otherwise. And even when you were diagnosed with cancer and when you knew you would go to Heaven, you carried on living with strength and courage and somehow kept smiling, dancing, and playing through all of it. You gave us all comfort and hope, even though you were so sick. Soon before you left, you told me how lucky you were that I was your Papa. I am the lucky one, blessed to be your Papa, Indigo Rose.

You showed me how to live life, how to celebrate our short time on this Earth.

He paused then, his shoulders shaking, and wiped his face with a tissue before continuing.

You are now the most brilliant of stars, the sunflowers shifting in the wind, the brightest rays of sunshine. I see you in every beauty on this Earth because of the beauty that was your life.

You always told me to keep smiling, because smiling makes your heart happy. For you, my sweet girl, I will keep smiling, although it will be nearly impossible without you smiling next to me.

My darling angel, my baby, I love you, I love you, I love you.'

The church was filled with strangled sobs as John walked back to his seat, his head hanging and tears dripping freely onto the tile floor. He held his arms out for River and I passed her to him. Her sad blue eyes stared at mine and I gave her a kiss on her forehead, telling her I loved her. She nodded and kissed my cheek before burying her head into John's shoulder. I stood up on legs that felt like gelatin, placing my hand and kissing the small white coffin before making my way to the microphone. Mrs. Hudson and Molly sat on the other side of John, freely weeping into each other's arms, Lestrade had his eyes fixed on the floor, his hands balled into fists. My brother's face was stone as he dabbed repeatedly at his eyes with the yellow handkerchief he had tucked in his pocket.

I steadied myself and began to read,

'When John and I found out that we would be having twins, and then having twin girls, we sat down with tea in the middle of the night, still awake half due to terror and the other half due to this relentless joy. Two daughters for us, these two old, outcast men who never thought they would be married, let alone become fathers. That night we chose the names for these two beautiful girls. River Grace and Indigo Rose. I had wanted to wait to see which child would fit each name, naming them only after their personalities had formed, but John said that we couldn't keep calling our daughters 'A and B' until they were six months old and that their names would suit them just fine. As per usual with these matters, John was correct.

At seven months old, she handed me her favorite rattle after I had come home particularly frustrated from a case, at two years old her first sentence was 'I love you,' for the two years she danced she practiced and practiced her tap dance for class until she was absolute perfection, and for her entire life, she always put others before herself.

She is generous, loving, and passionate, beautiful and brilliant.

She is my perfect little girl, my sweetest and brightest Sunshine.

You'll notice I am using the present tense when referring to her because my daughter still exists, in me, in John, in River Grace, in all of us. She will always be an "is," never a "was."

She is a shining example of humanity and makes me a better man, a better human being. She pushes me to be compassionate, to love as she does, to find the beauty in the darkest of times.

I cannot imagine a life without her blonde curls bouncing as she told me about her day, feeling her wrap her arms around me, or hearing her tell me she loves me, yet here I am in this horrible reality, eulogizing my darling little girl who has left this Earth. And we will inevitably move forward, forced to by time, drudging through life without our Indigo Rose, and it will make us so physically ill at times that we cannot get up in the morning, or go to sleep at night. The only reason I get up now is for you, my darling River and John, my beloved husband, the man who has always kept me right.

Today, we lay her to rest, we say our goodbyes for now. I challenge each of you to live as she did, with the kindness and compassion she had, to make this world the place she and River would have made it together.

Daddy loves you, forever and always, my darling.'


	19. All We Were Left With

The rain drummed hard against the windows, making winding trails down the glass that flashed brightly with the passing cars below. The flat was quiet, Molly had taken River out shopping for the evening, giving us our first night alone in quite a while. I had gotten us Chinese takeout and lit a candle, reminiscent of our first night together so long ago. Sherlock and I spent time in each other's arms, lying in our bed in the dim room, talking about those far away days that didn't seem real anymore.

"I don't believe we ever sent Mike Stamford a thank you letter for introducing us that day," Sherlock said, his long limbs crossing mine.

"No, I don't believe we did, he bloody well deserves one though," I replied, my voice muffled by raven curls.

He laughed and kissed my fingertips, brushing them across his lips before sighing loudly.

"He made it possible for us to experience the greatest joys…the greatest sorrow."

I nodded against his head, pressing my cheek against it. I glanced at the corner of the room, catching a glimpse of Indie twirling in her dance outfit and tutu.

"Did you see her again, John?" Sherlock asked, matching the direction of my gaze.

"Just for a moment, love."

"What was she doing today?"

"Dancing, spinning like the ballerina in her music box."

He smiled and nodded.

"Our little dancer, twirling across the stars," he paused for a moment before continuing, "I understand now why the world's majority believes in an afterlife, the possibility of seeing her again brings immense comfort to me."

I hugged him tighter against me.

"I can't think of it any other way now."

We fell into silence then, my hand running across his prominent ribs, his hand running through my increasingly greying hair, the tolls of the war we had lost.

The front door shut downstairs, River's cheerful voice echoing through the floor as she shouted her usual greeting to Mrs. Hudson. I heard her race up the stairs, plastic bags banging against the wooden steps.

"Well I suppose that's our cue, love," I said, kissing the top of his head and rolling to the side of the bed.

"Papa, Daddy! I'm home!" She sang from the front room.

"We're coming, my darling!" Sherlock shouted back.

We stepped out into the front room, shouting greetings to Molly and River. A smiling River turned the corner into the hallway and she crashed into my legs, hugging them with all her might.

"Papa! Come see what Molly got me for my new room!"

I picked her up and swung her onto my hip, unzipping the jacket she still wore. Sherlock leaned over and gave her a kiss, ruffling her curls.

"Hi, Daddy! Come look at what I got!" She said, giggling.

"What color did you decide on for your bedclothes, lovebug?" I asked, making my way to the sofa where Molly sat.

"Purple!"

"A lovely color, my darling," Sherlock said, a soft smile on his face.

I set River down and she carefully began to unpack the bags, holding their contents up for us to see before putting the pillows and blankets in one pile and her decorations in another.

"You will have the loveliest room in all of London, River Grace." Sherlock said, "a room fit for a princess!"

"I know, Daddy. I picked out everything for it," she said, a very serious look upon her face.

Molly and I began to laugh, when suddenly we heard Sherlock laugh out loud with everything that he had, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. Molly and I stopped laughing and stared at him in shock. We hadn't heard him laugh like this in months.

"That's…that's my girl," he said between laughs. He scooped up our giggling little girl and held her tight to him. She clung to Sherlock, her laughter joining his.

"She gets more and more like you every day, Sherlock, just today she told the cashier that she hoped her new puppy would stop chewing all her furniture. The poor woman was terribly confused," Molly said.

"Her fingers had that brown paint you put on the kitchen table when Daddy made a bunch of holes in it!" River said from Sherlock's lap, hands on her hips and quite proud of herself.

"Brilliant, my little detective!" Sherlock said with a kiss to her bouncing curls.

They continued to talk with each other, River telling him everything else she deduced about the cashier. Sherlock's eyes shone with pride as he listened to our daughter, his smile never leaving his face.

I suddenly felt very alone, my arms and heart aching to hold my little girl again and listen to her excitedly tell me about her day. I caught Molly's eye and she grabbed my hand and held it, giving me a sad smile. I sighed and cleared my throat, emotion beginning to overwhelm me.

"Excuse me everyone, I'll be right back," I said, making my way to the bathroom. I could feel Sherlock's eyes following me as I passed him.

I stepped inside the bathroom and shut the door, the tile cold on my bare feet. I glanced at the sink and saw her toothbrush still sitting in the little cup on the counter next to River's.

I smiled, remembering how Indie would sometimes sing a song as she brushed her teeth, foam spraying everywhere as she laughed and sang.

But what was the song?

It had only been a few weeks since she left us. What was wrong with me, why couldn't I remember the damn song?

What would I lose next? Her voice? Her laugh? The way her little hand felt in mine?

My heart began to race, the panic closing in on me as I collapsed on the edge of the tub, grasping onto the edge for dear life, tears running down my cheeks. I was already forgetting her, my sweet Indie.

After a time, a soft knock came through the door.

"Just a second, I'll be right out," I said, wiping at my face with my sleeves.

"Open the door, John."

I hesitated, not wanting him to see me in such a state.

"Please, John."

That word…

When I opened the door, Sherlock was standing there, holding out a tissue for me. I took it from him and played with it in my hands, twisting and turning it over and over.

"I forgot the song, Sherlock, the song that she sang when she brushed her teeth. All I have left of our daughter is our memories and I've already forgotten one," I said, my hands trembling.

He stepped into the bathroom and wiped away the stray tears that had fallen.

"Brush, brush, brush your teeth, got to keep them clean…" he murmured.

The memories came flooding back, I could see her and River sitting on the bathroom counter in their pajamas. I could hear Indie sing the song, specks of foam flying from her mouth. I remembered that she always started brushing on the right side, and that she filled her cup of water halfway when she was ready to rinse.

"I remember now, even more than I did before," I said to Sherlock, feeling almost giddy.

"Everything about our darling is in here," he whispered, tapping the side of my head, "You will never lose her, John, never."

* * *

John and I held each other for a few minutes more, before returning hand in hand to the front room to say our goodbyes to Molly.

"Shall we set your room up now, River Grace?" I asked her when Molly had left.

"Yes, Daddy, I've got to sleep in my new bed!" She said with a laugh, jumping up and running into my former study, her new room.

John chuckled and got up from the sofa, grabbing the pile of lavender colored blankets and following her with a limp.

I gathered some of the decorations and joined them in the room, sitting on the bare mattress and watching my joyful daughter dash about the room, telling us where she wanted everything to go.

River had been staying in our room with us ever since we had said goodbye to Indigo. As I could not sleep, I spent most nights with her after she woke up screaming from nightmares, wiping her tears away and rocking her until she fell back to sleep, desperately wishing I could answer her pleas to bring her sister back home.

"Daddy, can I have a new room?" She had asked one night after she had calmed down from her nightmare.

"Don't you want to go back to your room, my darling?" I said, brushing back curls from her forehead.

"That's me and Indie's room, and it hurts to be in there without her, I don't like that room anymore," she said, her tired, blue eyes swimming in tears.

I thought about that room, all the memories that lay within it, and was almost glad that she had asked to move out of it, so that we could leave it locked away upstairs. It was selfish of me, but I could hardly bear going into the room where having two of everything was now so unnecessary, the room where we had all been so happy. I had made my peace with the mocking yellow walls that had watched Indie's life and did not wish to return.

"I will speak to Papa about it tomorrow, princess, but we will make a brand new room, just for you, I promise."

She smiled and nodded, her small hand playing with the edge of my silk dressing gown.

"Thank you, Daddy, I love you," she said, her eyelids heavy.

"I love you too, River Grace," I said, starting to rock her back and forth.

"It'll be okay, Daddy, Papa and I will take care of you," she mumbled, her eyes drifting closed.

I thought about how often it had been said that she was just like me, but as I sat and rocked her, all I could see within her was John. She was as brave and as strong as my soldier, as caring and compassionate as my doctor. I had given her unruly raven curls and ice blue eyes, but John had given River her heart.

* * *

The next day, the contents of my study had been pushed into our bedroom and into storage, the dark walls painted over with lavender, a border of butterflies around the top edge. White wooden furniture was placed in the room, her bed against the far corner, and her toys sat neatly in drawers, her dollhouse at the foot of her bed.

River had kept with the lavender theme, choosing a lavender duvet with lavender striped white sheets.

Besides her toys and clothes, she had requested only one other item be brought down.

The periodic table I had hung when we made up the nursery was put on the wall beside the window, River proudly naming the first ten elements when it was hung. John and I smiled at each other, John shaking his head and laughing to himself.

"I have your periodic table and Papa's dollhouse, now I just need something from Indie!" River exclaimed, digging through a bag she had brought in.

She pulled out a jar that contained a bouquet of small sunflowers, placing them on her nightstand.

"There, now she'll be right next to me!"

"They're beautiful, love, just perfect," John said, his eyes becoming distant.

"Oh, Aunt Molly and I got you and Daddy one too!" She said, taking another jar from the bag and handing them to John.

"You look so sad all the time, Papa. Now, you can look at these and remember all the happy times! Because she was our sunshine and sunflowers have sunshine inside them!"

John immediately picked River up and wrapped her in his arms, the jar of sunflowers still in his hand.

"You are so thoughtful, lovebug, thank you. You make me very happy, you know that?" he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

She nodded and said, "Can you take a picture, Papa? We haven't taken pictures in so long and I want one in my new room!"

"Come here, Sherlock," John said, holding his arm out to me.

I stepped over to my family, taking a sunflower from the jar and breaking the stem. I placed it behind River's ear, the bright yellow petals framed beautifully by her dark raven hair. John took his phone out and snapped a photo.

It was the first of many pictures without our Indigo Rose, that picture with the freshly painted lavender walls behind us, John smiling with a haunted look in his eyes that would never quite leave, River radiant with the sunflower in her hair, and I, my lips turned up in a mask-like smile.

* * *

We would come upon this picture some weeks later as John and I sat in the front room placing pictures into albums, the fresh spring air coming in through the open windows.

John took it into his hands and stared at it for a moment, before getting up and placing it next to the jar of sunflowers we kept on the mantle.

"I think that's a lovely spot for that one, don't you, Sherlock?" he said, turning to me with his arms crossed.

I stood and walked over to him, placing my forehead on his.

"I could think of no better place, my love."

I felt his chest quake beneath my hands, his head beginning to shake under mine.

"I miss her, Sherlock, I miss our baby," he sobbed, "every night I lay there and think about her. I just want to see her again, hold her again, talk to our beautiful little girl again. It's their birthday in only a couple weeks and instead of two blueberry muffins there will only be one, and we'll only put seven candles on the cake instead of fourteen. How can we keep doing this, Sherlock? How do we really move on without her? Can we move on? Jesus, Sherlock, we haven't even taken her placemat off the kitchen table or gone through her clothes and toys. How can I put them away when I still wait for her to come home every day?"

I felt tears forming in my eyes as I watched the man I loved fall completely apart in my arms, his heart wrenching cries echoing throughout the room.

Curse this cruel world that had taken her, destroying my family, leaving only memories and sunflowers behind.

I remained silent, taking John by his trembling hands and leading him into the kitchen.

"What are you doing, Sherlock?" He asked, his voice tinged with anger.

I could see his eyes scan the room and stop on the kitchen table.

"No, Sherlock, I am not putting it away, not tonight," he said, pulling his hands roughly out of mine.

I turned toward the table and hesitated over the pink rubber placemat that hadn't been used in months, the focus of every eye during any meal we ate here.

"Don't you dare, Sherlock, leave it be!" He warned.

I closed my eyes and lifted it from the table. John grabbed my arm, fury apparent in his eyes.

"John, my love, Indigo is not coming home. She doesn't need this anymore."

My heart tore with each word I spoke. I wasn't sure if I believed my own words, but, for John, it was always for John.

"Damn it, Sherlock, put it down! PUT IT DOWN!" He shouted, his fingers digging painfully into my arm.

"Please, John, put it in the drawer, just in this drawer right here," I said as softly as I could.

His eyes darted from mine to the drawer, to the placemat, back to the drawer. His breathing was rapid and tears shone in his eyes.

"Please."

His shaking hand reached slowly for the placemat, until finally he weakly grabbed the edge. I took his hand from my arm and gently tugged him forward until he was next to the opened drawer.

I took the other edge of the placemat and we set it down, both of us shutting the drawer.

He stared at the closed drawer, tears falling fast down his cheeks. I fought with myself to not tear it back open and put her placemat back where it belonged, but I had to be strong, for him.

"We'll just leave it there for now, maybe River will want to use it someday," he whispered.

"Perhaps she will," I said, nodding.

"Papa, Daddy, I'm home! Uncle Greg brought me home in his police car!" River shouted as the front door swung open. John and I wiped away our tears as River rushed up the stairs and came into the kitchen.

"Hello, my darling, how was school today?" I asked as she hugged me.

"We did adding and subtracting today and it was very boring, but then we got to play with slime and I started to read a new book today! I brought it home, can we read it together?"

"Of course, lovebug, how about we sit down and read it after dinner? I was going to make a roast tonight, go get changed and then you can help me, alright?" John said.

"Okay, Papa!" She said before running into her room to get changed.

We ate dinner with happy conversation, Jack sitting dutifully at my feet as I fed him scraps from my plate. We were almost finished when I saw River's eyebrows furrow as she looked at Indigo's place.

"Papa, where did Indie's placemat go?"

John sighed and tapped his fork onto his food.

"We put it away for now, love," he said, a forced smile on his face.

"Oh, yeah, she doesn't need it anymore," River said, very matter of fact.

Hurt crossed John's face briefly before he silently nodded and went back to his plate.

"I'm done, Papa and Daddy! Can we read now?"

"Now wait, River, we must help Papa and wash the dishes."

She slid out of her chair and crossed her arms, stomping her feet ever so slightly as she made her way to the sink, making John's lips quirk up into a genuine smile.

After we had washed all the dishes, we sat in the front room and listened to River read her book. Once she had finished, she stood up and sat in John's lap.

"Daddy, can you play our song for us?" She eagerly asked, feet swinging against John's legs.

"As you wish, my darling."

I stood and picked up my violin from the side of my chair. I began to play, the most beautiful melody I had ever composed flowing from the strings.

River settled into John's arms, smile wide and eyes bright. John had a look of serenity on his face as he watched me, the faintest smile on his face.

And as I played, the sunflowers gently waved back and forth, blown by a breeze that had come in through the open window.

I smiled.

My daughter had come home.


	20. River and Indigo

"Papa!" River shouted from her bedroom.

"What do you need, love?" I shouted back.

"Can you come here? I need help with my homework!"

I stopped scrolling through the cases piling up on our website and went into her room. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a piece of paper on a book in her lap and a pencil stuck in her mouth.

"What are you working on?" I asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Mrs. Jones wants us to write about our favorite part of the summer, but I can't pick just one, Papa."

"I think it'll be alright if you write about more than one, lovebug, she'll love to read all of your happy memories!"

River nodded and looked down at her paper that was already covered with eraser marks and smudges of lead.

"I'll get you a new piece of paper, that one's a bit messy."

A quiet sniffle came from River as I got up to leave. I quickly sat back down and she scrambled into my arms in full-blown tears.

"River, sweetheart, what's wrong?" I said, wiping away the tears from her cheeks.

"I can't write about my favorite part of summer because none of it was my favorite part because Indie wasn't there," she said, more tears welling up in her eyes.

My heart was breaking as I looked into my daughter's eyes, the sorrow within them far too great for any little girl to bear.

"Well, let's do this River Grace, let's write about your favorite memories, with Indie, with me and Daddy, with everyone. I know your teacher would love to hear about those too." I said, taking her hand in mine.

She nodded her head, a smile crossing her face.

"Yeah, let's do that! I have lots of those!"

"That's my girl," I said, tweaking her nose, "do you want to wait for Daddy before we start? I'm sure he'd love to help you too."

"No, let's start now, Papa! I already have one to write about," she said, the pencil beginning to mark the paper.

"What's the first one, love?"

* * *

Two girls in matching aqua blue bathing suits knelt in the wet sand along the shore and were digging with small yellow shovels, carefully turning the sand in their hands and examining it closely.

"River, look! I found another shell!" Indie exclaimed, her hand waving in the air.

River stopped digging and ran to her sister at the edge of the sea. She took the shell from her sister's hand and turned it repeatedly in her own, rubbing the sand away from it.

"It's so pretty, I wonder what kind it is. Let's ask Daddy!" The raven-haired girl proclaimed, taking her sister by the hand and running with her to the two men that sat in red and white chairs further up the beach.

"What have we got here, my darlings?" Sherlock asked, his hair blown back by the sea breezes.

"This pretty shell, I found it by the ocean! We want to know what kind it is," Indie said.

Sherlock had just taken it into his hand when a snail popped its head out of the shell. Both girls jumped back, startled by the appearance of their new friend.

"Ah, _Nucella lapidus_. You found a little sea snail," Sherlock said with a smile.

"Can we keep her, Daddy?"

Sherlock handed the snail to River and turned to John, who sat with a bemused look on his face, and asked, "What do you think, John? Do you think we can add a sea snail to the family?"

"I think we should take her back home, a sea snail is happiest in the sea, don't you think my loves?"

"But Papa, we already named her Miss Petunia," Indie said sadly, her puppy dog eyes staring at John.

"And I'm sure Miss Petunia loved meeting us all, but she probably needs to get home to her family, it is getting a bit late."

The girls nodded, faint disappointment apparent on their faces, and rushed back to the ocean, their fathers getting up and following close behind.

"John, I want to keep the snail. Many experiments could be done, the diet of a sea snail, the social behaviors of sea snails with other aquatic life, the possibilities are endless," Sherlock whined.

"Yes, but when the sea snail dies of depression in a flat in the middle of London…"

"Sea snails don't have higher cognition, John. They can't feel sadness or despair. Likely the stress of the new environment would lead to an inability to feed and thus, death."

"And thus Sherlock, the snail is being returned to the ocean, where it belongs."

"Papa! Daddy! Come say goodbye!" Indie shouted from the edge of the ocean, seafoam wrapping around her ankles.

John and Sherlock joined their daughters, giving their farewells as the sea snail was set into the receding water.

"Go back to your family, Miss Petunia!" Indie yelled, waving her hand goodbye.

River stood next to her sister, a mischievous grin on her face, and bent down, scooping water into her hands. She flung her hands up, throwing water onto an unsuspecting Sherlock. He stood for a moment, shocked, until putting the same grin on his face and throwing water onto his daughter, making her shriek with joy.

"Me next, Daddy!" Indie said, her arms thrown up into the air.

Soon, all four were laughing and splashing at the ocean's edge, curls dripping wet and smiles across their faces. They would dig for shells and swim out to where their toes could barely touch the sand. And as the sun was setting, Sherlock and John wrapped their girls in their pink and white polka dotted towels and walk with them in their arms to the ice cream shop just across the street from the beach.

"Papa, when can we come back?" Indie asked, her mouth covered in melted ice cream.

"Next summer, when the water's warm again and you and River are out of school," John said with a smile to his younger daughter.

"But that's so far away, Papa, can't we come back sooner?" River said, a pout on her face.

"Next summer, my loves, and the summer after that and the summer after that, until you're both grown up and have to take me and Daddy to the beach," John said with a laugh.

"We'll never be that old, Papa!" River said, jumping into John's arms.

He snuggled her close and said, "Someday you will be, but right now you're my little lovebug."

"And I'm your little Sunshine, right Papa?" Indie said from across the table where she sat with Sherlock.

"Always my little Sunshine," John said with a smile.

* * *

"We only ever got to go back once after that, then Indie got sick," River said with a sigh, setting her pencil down on the paper.

"Do you want to go back, my love?" I said

"Yes, Papa, I miss that beach. I think Indie would want me to go back and have fun. She was so fun, Papa, she was my best friend."

"I know, sweetheart, and you were her best friend. She loved you so very much."

"Papa, Indie won't come back to visit, will she? Lily told me that angels have to stay in heaven and that even if she visited we couldn't see her."

"Do you know how flowers get their colors, River?"

She shook her head no and leaned towards me, a curious look on her face.

"Every flower that you see, every single one, is painted especially for you, by your own special angels."

Her eyes brightened and she jumped off her bed, grabbing the fresh sunflowers from the bedside table.

"These were painted by Indie?" She said excitedly.

"Yes, and the flowers we see on our way to school, and in the schoolyard, all of them, painted by her."

"Wow, so she has been visiting! But I still can't see her?"

"No, my darling, but you can see everything she makes for you," a deep voice rumbled from the doorway.

I looked up and saw Sherlock, his curls blown back by the wind and his jacket hanging over his arm.

"Daddy, you're home!" River said, running to him. He caught her in his free arm and picked her up, kissing her on the cheek.

"I missed you, River Grace, how was your day?"

"It was okay, Papa was helping me with homework and was telling me about how Indie is painting all the flowers for me!"

"I heard, my darling, now, did you know that she shapes the clouds for you too?" He said, gracefully gliding over to the window. I stood up and walked next to him, looking at the evening sky.

"Look at the clouds, River, tell me what do you see?"

"I see a bird! And a tree!"

"All for you, my darling, all from our lovely Indigo Rose."

River began pointing out all the shapes she saw, her nose pressed to the glass.

"And at night, she sends shooting stars to tell you that she loves you, remember the shooting star we saw the other day when we were reading your books?"

"Yeah! That was Indie?"

"Yes, that was her."

"I knew she wouldn't leave me! She's here, maybe I can't see her, but she's here and I love her so much! Indie, I love you!" River shouted.

"I love you, Indie," I whispered to the night sky. Sherlock squeezed my hand as we turned back to finish her homework. We both put her to bed soon after dinner, our girl still chatting away about everything she had learned that night.

Sherlock and I sat in front of the fire after she had gone to sleep and flipped through the photo albums I had made, smiling at the picture of the girls with cake and icing slathered in their hair at their first birthday, laughing at the picture of Indie dressed in Mrs. Hudson's old dress with her high heels on and strings of pearls hanging from her neck, and weeping at the last picture we took with her, her pale face and sunken eyes nearly hidden by the beaming smile she held onto until the day she died.

"She was wonderful, Sherlock, what did we ever do to deserve her?" I said, brushing my hand over her face.

"Is."

"What?"

"She is wonderful, John."

I looked at him, my husband, my partner, my friend, and saw the strange mixture of pain and happiness, of loss and hope that he had in his eyes.

"She is wonderful, Sherlock, our wonderful, beautiful, daughter."

"Our silly, flower loving, dancing, sunny Indigo Rose." He said, his eyes drifting towards the stars that twinkled above London.

"Let's visit her tomorrow, after we get River from school."

"I'll get sunflowers on my way home from Scotland Yard," He said, his eyes still distant.

"That would be lovely, Sherlock," I said, settling into his arms.

"We should also get new books for River, the ones she has are terribly dull. Dinosaurs and tacos? Honestly, that's the best educational material they can come up with?"

"Sherlock, let it be, if she wants to read about dinosaurs and tacos, let her. She won't be this little forever." I said.

He harrumphed and muttered, "She'll be my little girl, always."

* * *

Raven curls became longer and were put into ponytails and messy buns instead of braids, lips were painted with lipsticks instead of melted ice cream, and lacy dresses were replaced with jeans and tank tops. She grew too big for bedtime stories and became too heavy to pick up off the couch and lay into bed. Cuddles were 'weird' and a quick kiss on the cheek with a fleeting 'love you' was rare. Fights were had and curfews were set.

She joined the football team and sang the leads in all of her school plays. I drove her and growing numbers of friends to the cinema and to concerts and I sat with her as she cried over the first boy to break her heart.

One day, I looked up to where the girls' school pictures were hung and didn't see two little girls anymore, but the pictures of a beautiful young woman and our little girl who never had the chance to grow up.

And soon, I was standing with that beautiful young woman at her graduation and watching her as she made her speech.

As she spoke about splashing in the rain, playing pretend with her sister, cuddling with her fathers, beach trips, shooting stars, and the colors of flowers.

About the little things that became the big things.


	21. These Happy Days

It's been twenty years since you left us, my darling. Time has only dulled the pain of your loss. There are still days that I pass sitting alone in my chair, lost in the memories I have of you and your wonderful life.

I hope you enjoy the compositions I have created for you. As I stand near to the willow tree next to where you sleep and play for you, I imagine those nights where I watched you and your sister twirl and dance to my songs and all the times I lulled you to sleep with music. It is somewhat of a comfort to me, knowing that you can still hear me play.

It is lonely without you or your sister here. River visits when she can, but her shifts at the hospital often keep her late. Papa and I still work some cases for Scotland Yard and from our website, but Papa's knees and shoulder ache him and I must confess that my body is betraying me in the same way. Retirement seems close for us, and I can't say I'm disappointed. Lestrade has already stepped down from the force and working cases isn't as satisfying anymore. He and Molly visit us nearly every week, along with their daughter Abigail, who's nearly 15 now and looks just like her mother.

Your Uncle Mycroft is still manning the British government and continues to be a thorn in my side. He just recently donated money to the new children's oncology wing at Great Ormond Street. He visited us this morning to ask our permission to name the new wing after you, my darling. So now, children will be cared for in the Indigo Rose Wing, where sunflowers will bloom and lives will be saved. Your sister is especially excited for that is where she will be working now as the brilliant physician that she is. Her husband will be working in the children's ICU downstairs. I will never admit it to your Papa or to him, but he is a good man. He is still not good enough for your darling sister, but he is tolerable.

Dear Mrs. Hudson has been in and out of hospital with pneumonia since Christmas. She still insists on making us lunch and dinner, although your Papa has been making more meals for all of us as of late. Throughout the night, she'll tell her favorite stories about you and River. "Seeing those girls was my favorite part of the day," she always says. I am worried about your Nana Hudson. She has begun to speak of seeing you again. She's been with me since the beginning of my adventures on Baker Street and I cannot bear the thought of losing her.

Papa and I are considering getting another little pug soon. Five years have come and gone since we lost our dear Jack. I know that he is with you now and can imagine him lounging on your feet, keeping them warm as he did when you were here. I see you both frolicking through warm fields of flowers and grass and I am content that you both have each other again.

I miss you, my Indigo Rose. I often wonder what you would be doing now, something amazing and brilliant I have no doubt. Papa and I have kept your pictures up, although our hearts are always broken when someone asks where you are, why your graduation picture isn't next to your sister's, why are you are seemingly frozen at six years old. Then we explain to them and I see the pity and shock cross their face and I can already hear the "oh, I'm so sorry," coming from their mouths. I always push these clients out faster, earning a disapproving look from your Papa, but it does not matter to me. I cannot tolerate their pity and their sorrow, it is too little for how great of a loss you were to us.

I think that is all for now, sweetheart. Give Jack a pat on the head for me and tell him that he is a good boy. I'll be by tomorrow to play you your song and to put down fresh flowers.

Happy 27th birthday, my darling Sunshine.

I love you, always and forever,

Daddy

* * *

Sherlock folded the paper and placed it in an envelope, writing Indigo's name on the front in his delicate script. He tucked in the drawer and sat back with a sigh.

"Sherlock? Get dressed please, River and Michael will be over soon," John said tiredly as he came into the room.

He glanced over at the picture that sat in the middle of the mantle, a radiant River standing at the altar in a white, sparkling ballgown, her raven hair pulled up into an elegant bun, a white, jeweled veil draping behind her.

"Why is he coming?" Sherlock complained.

"Because he is her husband, Sherlock, he's part of our family now," John said, exasperated.

Sherlock grumbled to himself, his knees cracking as he stood up from the chair. He ran his hand through his greying curls and went into their bedroom.

The front door opened as River called out, "Papa, Daddy! I'm here!"

John secretly loved that River never lost the habit of calling him Papa or Sherlock Daddy. It was one thing that hasn't changed since she was a little girl, the days that he missed so terribly.

She and Michael came through the front door, River walking over to her father for a hug. Michael stood in the doorway, a soft smile on his face.

"River, love, how are you? You look well, how has the hospital been?" John said, smiling from ear to ear, "come in Michael, have a seat. Tea anyone?"

"Papa, I'm just fine, work has been hectic. There's a little girl there now who I'm about to send home on hospice, she's the most beautiful girl, little brown curls and big brown eyes…" she trailed off. "But, she's a fighter, maybe she'll surprise us and pull through," she finished, a sad smile on her face, eyes distant.

Michael took her hand and kissed her temple.

"Where's Daddy?" She asked.

"Oh, he's getting dressed now, finally. We haven't had a case in days, you know how he gets." John said.

"Mopey? Whiny?" River laughed.

"Precisely, my love."

All three laughed and sat making small talk until Sherlock appeared in his classic Oxford and tailored slacks.

"River Grace, my darling, it's so lovely to see you," Sherlock said, coming to his daughter and hugging her tightly.

"Daddy, how are you? How did the PCR run?" River asked, giving Sherlock a kiss on the cheek.

"Brilliant results, I've isolated the necessary sequence and now can begin my analyses!"

"Oh, fantastic, let me know if you need any help, I could brush up on my biochemistry."

"You are welcome anytime, my little scientist." Sherlock said warmly, a soft smile crossing his face.

"Dinner should be ready in another 20 minutes, I'll get your Nana Hudson. She'll be so happy to see you both." John said, getting up and going downstairs.

"I have to run to the loo, I'll be right back," River said, leaving Sherlock alone with her husband.

Sherlock and Michael sat in silence. Sherlock's ice blue eyes boring into Michael, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor.

"So, sir, have you been down at the Yard recently?" Michael ventured.

"No."

"Oh, no cases then?"

"Obviously."

Thankfully for Michael, John and Mrs. Hudson came teetering into the room just at that moment.

"Michael, my dear, so lovely to see you!" Mrs. Hudson said, walking over to him with her cane and sitting on the sofa next to him.

"I'm happy to see you too, Nana Hudson, how is that hip of yours?" he asked.

"Oh, it's giving me a bit of trouble, but nothing I haven't managed before."

River came into the room then, running to Mrs. Hudson when she saw her sitting next to her husband.

"Nana Hudson!" She said, enveloping the frail woman in a hug.

"My sweet girl, how are you, how are those precious babies you're seeing?"

River sat and told her about the children in the ward, those who were recovering and those who were not.

"Damn it to Hell, that terrible disease. So much suffering, so many babies suffering." Mrs. Hudson quietly mused, her eyes staring at the little blonde girl in the decades old photo hanging on the wall.

They sat in silence then, nodding their heads.

The oven buzzed, making Sherlock and John jump in their seats.

"Dinner's ready, everyone. Come, let's tuck in." John said, his voice suddenly years older.

The atmosphere of dinner, however, was much more cheerful. They ate in between laughter and talked about the happy memories they had in this flat. Even Sherlock's lips quirked after a joke that Michael made.

Soon, the table was cleared and everyone was back in the front room, sipping on tea that John had made.

"Oh! Papa, Daddy, I have something for you. I saw it and just had to grab it for you both." River said.

She pulled a small box from her bag and handed it to John.

"Go ahead, open it."

"Darling, it's your birthday tomorrow, you shouldn't have gotten us anything," Sherlock said.

"It's a bit of a present for me too. Go ahead, Papa, open it, please?" River said, visibly excited.

John opened the package and pulled out small white baby shoes.

His eyebrows shot up and a shout came from him.

"River Grace!"

"What is it, John? Why would you give us small shoes?" Sherlock said, confusion apparent in his voice.

"They're baby shoes, you dunce. Oh, lovebug, oh this is so wonderful." John said, hugging his daughter.

"Baby shoes?" Sherlock whispered to himself, his face visibly paling.

"She's having a baby, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson laughed, "my dear, how wonderful!"

"A baby?" Sherlock whispered, his eyes fixed on the small white shoes he held in his hand.

"Yes, Daddy, a baby. Aren't you happy?" River said, her smile wide.

Sherlock sat there in silence, a blank look on his face.

"Daddy?"

"My darling…" Sherlock said, getting up and wrapping River in a hug, tears forming in his eyes. He pulled away and kissed her on the forehead, tears beginning to stream down her face.

"I am the happiest man in the world right now. My baby is having a baby," he said, placing his hand on her stomach.

"How far along are you, my dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"About 11 weeks"

"A November baby! How lovely!"

As they continued to chat, a new mood enveloped the flat, a feeling of hope and joy for this so welcome arrival. Sherlock and John spent the next 6 months redecorating River's old room as a nursery, leaving the walls purple for their new granddaughter. Sherlock played Mozart and Bach, along with his own works for River's growing belly and both men stood in awe as they felt the baby kick.

River delivered a healthy baby girl on a bitterly cold late November day. Michael came out of the room, shouting that he had a perfect daughter. Sherlock and John smiled, remembering their own shouts of joy when their girls were born. They held their new granddaughter later that day, her deep baby blue eyes wandering all over the room. They whispered to her, telling her how loved she was.

Sherlock and John watched the little girl when her parents were at work or just needed some time to themselves. They relished in the feeling of a baby in their arms again, the smells of baby shampoo and powder, and the high-pitched giggles of a happy baby.

The years flew by, a toddling little girl soon standing in place of that newborn baby. She had inherited her mother's raven curls and high cheekbones. She had her father's nose and slim build. Her eyes, however, were a different matter entirely.

They were a bright hazel, just the same shade as Indigo had. "The most beautiful eyes in the world," Sherlock would say about his granddaughter, scooping her up into his arms and snuggling her next to him as he went through a case or his newest experiment. John took her on his outings, making sure she was well-bundled against the cold winds of London.

She was a delightful child, bringing light and life back to 221B, brightening the walls with her colorful drawings and her brilliant smile.

* * *

One morning, John found himself at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at the door that he hadn't gone through in years. He crept up the stairs and opened the door, its hinges squeaking loudly.

And then he was twenty years younger, watching his two little girls run around the room in tutus and sparkling dresses, the sunshine bright on the yellow walls.

He walked quietly into the room, beds still neatly made, Indie's side still full of the trinkets and toys she had held most dear. Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Greg kept the room tidy all of these years, knowing that it was too much for John or Sherlock.

John went to the bed covered in pink roses and sat down, taking the teddy bear that sat on the pillows. He held it in his hands and rubbed the soft fur, remembering the rainy day he had picked out this bear for Indie. It was a random gift, no special occasion, but she loved this bear more than the others, always carrying it with her and sleeping with one arm protectively over the stuffed animal.

He sighed and got up, straightening the comforter before he left the room behind, bear in hand. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, hands steepled, eyes intent on the blazing fire.

"Our princess will love that bear very much, John," he said, his eyes never moving.

"Yeah, I don't know why I thought of it today," he quietly said, sitting in his chair and flipping open the paper, placing the bear protectively against his side.

About an hour later, a frazzled River walked through the door, carrying her daughter in one arm and a bag in the other. The little girl squirmed out of her arms and ran to John, squealing "Grandpapa! Grandpapa!"

"Good morning, my love! Are we going to have a fun day today?" John said, kissing his granddaughter on her cheek.

"The best day! Can we go to the park, Grandpapa?" she giggled.

"Anything you want, my sweetheart."

"Dada, will you come too?" she said, turning with a smile to Sherlock.

"Of course, princess," he said, holding out his arms to her.

She climbed into his lap and waved goodbye to her mother, chattering to John and Sherlock about her morning.

"Is that your bear, Grandpapa?" she said, pointing at the little brown bear sitting next to John.

"No, my love, it's yours," John said, holding out the bear to his granddaughter.

She laughed and jumped out of Sherlock's lap, running over to John and taking the bear from him, hugging it against her chest.

"Thank you, Grandpapa!"

"It's a very special bear, it was your Auntie's." John said, brushing back her hair.

"Auntie Indie? Mummy told me about her. She loved to go to the park too!"

"Yes she did. She loved so many things, including this little bear. Now, can you promise me something?" John said.

She nodded and stared wide-eyed at John.

"Promise me you'll take the very best care of this bear and love him very much."

"I promise!" She shouted, tucking the bear inside of her denim jacket.

"That's my girl. Go sit with Dada until I get breakfast ready."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and bounded over to Sherlock, snuggling into his lap and turning on the telly.

After they ate, Sherlock put her raincoat on and helped her into her boots. The two men took her hands and were walking down the stairs when she began to shout that she had forgotten her beloved blanket.

"I'll get it, my darling, just wait here with Grandpapa," Sherlock said, bounding back up the stairs.

He returned to 221B and saw the pink and grey blanket draped on John's chair. He picked up the corner embroidered with 'Charlotte Indigo' and went back down to his husband and granddaughter.

"Here you are," he said, handing the blanket to the tearful girl.

"Thank you, Dada," she said with a hiccup.

"You're most welcome, princess. Don't cry, it's alright now," Sherlock said, wiping away the little girl's tears.

She nodded and took Sherlock's outstretched hand.

"Ready, Charlotte?" John said.

"Let's go!" she yelled.

They set off down a blossoming Baker Street, the two men and their Charlotte Indigo laughing and smiling the whole way to the park.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it, Sherlock?" John said as they watched Charlotte play on the swings.

"A marvelous day, John."

John leaned his head onto Sherlock's shoulder. The two men sat contentedly hand in hand, a gentle breeze blowing, the sun shining softly down on them.

Peace had finally been found in these happy days.


End file.
